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* ■ > s. 


S. G. and E. L. ELBERT 







Digitized by the Internet Archive 

in 2012 with funding from 

Boston Library Consortium Member Libraries 







Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by 


in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 

University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co., 
















«TT 7HAT are you going to do with yourself this 
V V evening, Alfred ? " said Mr. Royal to his com- 
panion, as they issued from his counting-house in New- 
Orleans. " Perhaps I ought to apologize for not calling 
you Mr. King, considering the shortness of our acquaint- 
ance ; but your father and I were like brothers in our 
youth, and you resemble him so much, I can hardly realize 
that you are not he himself, and I still a young man. It 
used to be a joke with us that we must be cousins, since he 
was a King and I was of the Royal family. So excuse me 
if I say to you, as I used to say to him. What are you 
going to do with yourself, Cousin Alfred ?" 

" I thank you for the friendly familiarity," rejoined the 
young man. " It is pleasant to know that I remind you 
so strongly of my good father. My most earnest wish is 
to resemble him in character as much as I am said to re- 
semble him in person. I have formed no plans for the 
evening. I was just about to ask you what there was best 
worth seeing or hearing in the Crescent City." 

" If I should tell you I thought there was nothing better 
worth seeing than my daughters, you would perhaps excuse 
a father's partiality," rejoined Mr. Royal. 

l A 


" Your daughters ! " exclaimed his companion, in a tone 
of surprise. " I never heard that you were married." 

A shadow of embarrassment passed over the merchant's 
face, as he replied, " Their mother was a Spanish lady, — 
a stranger here, — and she formed no acquaintance. She 
was a woman of a great heart and of rare beauty. Nothing 
can ever make up her loss to me ; but all the joy that re- 
mains in life is centred in the daughters she has left me. I 
should like to introduce them to you ; and that is a com- 
pliment I never before paid to any young man. My home 
is in the outskirts of the city ; and when we have dined at 
the hotel, according to my daily habit, I will send off a few 
letters, and then, if you like to go there with me, I will call 
a carriage/' 

" Thank you," replied the young man ; " unless it is your 
own custom to ride, I should prefer to walk. I like the 
exercise, and it will give a better opportunity to observe 
the city, which is so different from our Northern towns 
that it has for me the attractions of a foreign land." 

In compliance with this wish, Mr. Royal took him 
through the principal streets, pointing out the public build- 
ings, and now and then stopping to smile at some placard 
or sign which presented an odd jumble of French and 
English. Wheij they came to the suburbs of the city, the 
aspect of things became charmingly rural. Houses were 
scattered here and there among trees and gardens. Mr. 
Royal pointed out one of them, nestled in flowers and half 
encircled by an orange-grove, and said, " That is my home. 
When I first came here, the place where it stands was a 
field of sugar-canes ; but the city is fast stretching itself 
into the suburbs." 

They approached the dwelling ; and in answer to the 


bell, the door was opened by a comely young negress, with 
a turban of bright colors on her head and golden hoops in 
her ears. Before the gentlemen had disposed of their hats 
and canes, a light little figure bounded from one of the 
rooms, clapping her hands, and exclaiming, " Ah, Papa- 
sito ! " Then, seeing a stranger with him, she suddenly 
stood still, with a pretty look of blushing surprise. 

" Never mind, Mignonne," said her father, fondly patting 
her head. " This is Alfred Royal King, from Boston ; my 
namesake, and the son of a dear old friend of mine. I 
have invited him to see you dance. Mr. King, this is my 

The fairy dotted a courtesy, quickly and gracefully as a 
butterfly touching a flower, and then darted back into the 
room she had left. There they were met by a taller young 
lady, who was introduced as " My daughter Rosabella." 
Her beauty was superlative and peculiar. Her complex- 
ion was like a glowing reflection upon ivory from gold in 
the sunshine. Pier large brown eyes were deeply fringed, 
and lambent with interior light. Lustrous dark brown 
hair shaded her forehead in little waves, slight as the rip- 
pling of water touched by an insect's wing. It was ar- 
ranged at the back of her head in circling braids, over 
which fell clusters of ringlets, with moss-rose-buds nestling 
among them. Her full, red lips were beautifully shaped, 
and wore a mingled expression of dignity and sweetness. 
The line from ear to chin was that perfect oval which art- 
ists love, and the carriage of her head was like one born 
to a kingdom. 

Floracita, though strikingly handsome, was of a model 
less superb than her elder sister. She was a charming 
little brunette, with laughter always lurking in ambush 


within her sparkling black eyes, a mouth like " Cupid's 
bow carved in coral," and dimples in her cheeks, that well 
deserved their French name, berceaux d'amour. 

These radiant visions of beauty took Alfred King so 
much by surprise, that he was for a moment confused. 
But he soon recovered self-possession, and, after the usual 
salutations, took a seat offered him near a window over- 
looking the garden. While the commonplaces of conver- 
sation were interchanged, he could not but notice the floral 
appearance of the room. The ample white lace curtains 
were surmounted by festoons of artificial roses, caught up 
by a bird of paradise. On the ceiling was an exquisitely 
painted garland, from the centre of which hung a tasteful 
basket of natural flowers, with delicate vine-tresses droop- 
ing over its edge. The walls were papered with bright 
arabesques of flowers, interspersed with birds and butter- 
flies. In one corner a statuette of Flora looked down upon 
a geranium covered with a profusion of rich blossoms. In 
the opposite corner, ivy was trained to form a dark back- 
ground for Canova's " Dancer in Repose," over whose arm 
was thrown a wreath of interwoven vines and orange- 
blossoms. On brackets and tables were a variety of natu- 
ral flowers in vases of Sevres china, whereon the best 
artists of France had painted flowers in all manner of 
graceful combinations. The ottomans were embroidered 
with flowers. Rosabella's white muslin dress was trailed 
all over with delicately tinted roses, and the lace around 
the corsage was fastened in front with a mosaic basket of 
flowers. Floracita's black curls fell over her shoulders 
mixed with crimson fuchsias, and on each of her little slip- 
pers was embroidered a bouquet. 

" This is the Temple of Flora," said Alfred, turning to 


his host. " Flowers everywhere ! Natural flowers, arti- 
ficial flowers, painted flowers, embroidered flowers, and hu- 
man flowers excelling them all," • — glancing at the young 
ladies as he spoke. 

Mr. Royal sighed, and in an absent sort of way an- 
swered, " Yes, yes." Then, starting up, he said abruptly, 
" Excuse me a moment ; I wish to give the servants some 

Floracita, who was cutting leaves from the geranium, 
observed his quick movement, and, as he left the room, 
she turned toward their visitor and said, in a childlike, 
confidential sort of way : " Our dear Mamita used to 
call this room the Temple of Flora. She had a great 
passion for flowers. She chose the paper, she made the 
garlands for the curtains, she embroidered the ottomans, 
and painted that table so prettily. Papasito likes to have 
things remain as she arranged them, but sometimes they 
make him sad ; for the angels took Mamita away from us 
two years ago." 

" Even the names she gave you are flowery," said Alfred, 
with an expression of mingled sympathy and admiration. 

" Yes ; and we had a great many flowery pet-names 
beside," replied she. " My name is Flora, but" when she 
was very loving with me she called me her Floracita, her 
little flower ; and Papasito always calls me so now. Some- 
times Mamita called me Pensee Vivace. " 

" In English we call that bright little flower Jump-up- 
and-kiss-me," rejoined Alfred, smiling as he looked down 
upon the lively little fairy. 

She returned the smile with an arch glance, that seemed 
to say, " I sha' n't do it, though." And away she skipped 
to meet her father, "whose returning steps were heard. 


" You see I spoil her," said he, as she led him into the 
room with a half-dancing step. " But how can I help it ? " 

Before there was time to respond to this question, the 
negress with the bright turban announced that tea was ready. 

" Yes, Tulipa, we will come/' said Floracita. 

" Is she a flower too ? " asked Alfred. 

" Yes, she 's a flower, too," answered Floracita, with a 
merry little laugh.* " We named her so because she always 
wears a red and yellow turban ; but we call her Tulee, for 

While they were partaking of refreshments, she and her 
father were perpetually exchanging badinage, which, child- 
ish as it was, served to enliven the repast. But when she 
began to throw oranges for him to catch, a reproving glance 
from her dignified sister reminded her of the presence of 

" Let her do as she likes, Rosa dear," said her father. 
"She is used to being my little plaything, and I can't spare 
her to be a woman yet." 

" I consider it a compliment to forget that I am a stran- 
ger," said Mr. King. " For my own part, I forgot it en- 
tirely before I had been in the house ten minutes." 

Rosabella thanked him with a quiet smile and a slight 
inclination of her head. Floracita, notwithstanding this 
encouragement, paused in her merriment ; and Mr. Royal 
began to talk over reminiscences connected with Alfred's 
father. When they rose from table, he said, " Come here, 
Mignonne ! We won't be afraid of the Boston gentleman, 
will we?" Floracita sprang to his side. He passed his 
arm fondly round her, and, waiting for his guest and his 
elder daughter to precede them, they returned to the room 
they had left. They had scarcely entefed it, when Flora- 


cita darted to the window, and, peering forth into the twi- 
light, she looked back roguishly at her sister, and began to 

sing : — 

" Un petit blanc, que j'aime, 

En ces lieux est venu. 

Oui ! oui ! c'est Iiii meme ! 

C'est lui ! je l'ai vue ! 

Petit blanc ! mon bon frere ! 

Ha ! ha ! petit blanc si doux ! " 

The progress of her song was checked by the entrance 
of a gentleman, who was introduced to Alfred as Mr. Fitz- 
gerald from Savannah. His handsome person reminded 
one of an Italian tenor singer, and his manner was a grace- 
ful mixture of hauteur and insinuating courtesy. After a 
brief interchange of salutations, he said to Floracita, "I 
heard some notes of a lively little French tune, that went 
so trippingly I should be delighted to hear more of it." 

Floracita had accidentally overheard some half-whis- 
pered words which Mr. Fitzgerald had addressed to her 
sister, during his last visit, and, thinking she had discovered 
an important secret, she was disposed to use her power 
mischievously. Without waiting for a repetition of his 
request, she sang : — 

" Petit blanc, mon bon frere ! 
Ha ! ha ! petit blanc si doux ! 
II n'y a rien sur la terre 
De si joli que vous." 

While she was singing, she darted roguish glances at her 
sister, whose cheeks glowed like the sun-ripened side of a 
golden apricot. Her father touched her shoulder, and said 
in a tone of annoyance, " Don't sing that foolish song, 
Mignonne ! " She turned to him quickly with a look of 
surprise; for she was accustomed only to endearments from 


him. In answer to her look, he added, in a gentler tone, 
" You know I told you I wanted my friend to see you 
dance. Select one of your prettiest, ma 'petite, and Rosa- 
bella will play it for you." 

Mr. Fitzgerald assiduously placed the music-stool, and 
bent over the portfolio w r hile Miss Royal searched for the 
music. A servant lighted the candelabra and drew the 
curtains. Alfred, glancing at Mr. Royal, saw he was 
watching the pair who were busy at the portfolio, and 
that the expression of his countenance was troubled. His 
eyes, however, soon had pleasanter occupation ; for as soon 
as Rosa touched the piano,* Floracita began to float round 
the room in a succession of graceful whirls, as if the mu- 
sic had taken her up and was waltzing her along. As she 
passed the marble Dancing Girl, she seized the wreath 
that was thrown over its arm, and as she went circling 
round, it seemed as if the tune had become a visible spirit, 
and that the garland was a floating accompaniment to its 
graceful motions. Sometimes it was held aloft by the 
right hand, sometimes by the left ; sometimes it was a 
whirling semicircle behind her ; and sometimes it rested 
on her shoulders, mingling its white orange buds and blos- 
soms with her shower of black curls and crimson fuchsias. 
Now it was twined round her head in a flowery crown, 
and then it gracefully unwound itself, as if it were a thing 
alive. Ever and anon the little dancer poised herself for 
an instant on the point of one fairy foot, her cheeks glow- 
ing with exercise and dimpling with smiles, as she met her 
father's delighted gaze. Every attitude seemed spon- 
taneous in its prettiness, as if the music had made it with- 
out her choice. At last she danced toward her father, and 
sank, w 7 ith a wave-like motion, on the ottoman at his feet. 


He patted the glossy head that nestled lovingly on hig 
knee, and drawing a long breath, as if oppressed with hap- 
piness, he murmured, " Ah, Mignonne ! " 

The floating fairy vision had given such exquisite pleas- 
ure, that all had been absorbed in watching its variations. 
Now they looked at each other and smiled. " You would 
make Taglioni jealous," said Mr. Fitzgerald, addressing 
the little dancer ; and Mr. King silently thanked her w 7 ith 
a very expressive glance. 

As Rosabella retired from the piano, she busied herself 
with rearranging a bouquet she had taken from one of the 
vases. When Mr. Fitzgerald stationed himself at her side, 
she lowered her eyes with a perceptibly deepening color. 
On her peculiar complexion a blush showed like a roseate 
cloud in a golden atmosphere. As Alfred gazed on the 
long, dark, silky fringes resting on those warmly tinted 
cheeks, he thought he had never seen any human creature 
so superbly handsome. 

" Nothing but music can satisfy us after such dancing," 
said Mr. Fitzgerald. She looked up to him with a smile ; 
and Alfred thought the rising of those dark eyelashes sur- 
passed their downcast expression, as the glory of morning 
sunshine excels the veiled beauty of starlight. 

" Shall I accompany you while you sing, 6 How brightly 
breaks the morning ' ? " asked she. 

"That always sings itself into my heart, whenever you 
raise your eyes to mine," replied he, in a low tone, as he 
handed her to the piano. 

Together they sang that popular melody, bright and 

joyful as sunrise on a world of blossoms. Then came a 

Tyrolese song, with a double voice, sounding like echoes 

from the mountains. This was followed by some tender, 



complaining Russian melodies, novelties which Mr. Fitz- 
gerald had brought on a preceding visit. Feeling they 
were too much engrossed with each other, she said politely, 
" Mr. King has not yet chosen any music." 

" The moon becomes visible through the curtains," re- 
plied he. " Perhaps you will salute her with ' Casta 

" That is a favorite with us," she replied. " Either 
Flora or I sing it almost every moonlight night." 

She sang it in very pure Italian. Then turning round on 
the music-stool she looked at her father, and said, " Now, 
Papasito querido, what shall I sing for you ? " 

" You know, dear, what I always love to hear," an- 
swered he. 

With gentle touch, she drew from the keys a plaintive 
prelude, which soon modulated itself into " The Light of 
other Days." She played and sang it with so much feel- 
ing, that it seemed the voice of memory floating with 
softened sadness over the far-off waters of the past. The 
tune was familiar to Alfred, but it had never sung itself 
into his heart, as now. " I felt as I did in Italy, listening 
to a vesper-bell sounding from a distance in the stillness 
of twilight," said he, turning toward his host. 

" All who hear Rosabella sing notice a bell in her 
voice," rejoined her father. 

" Undoubtedly it is the voice of a belle," said Mr. Fitz- 

Her father, without appearing to notice the common- 
place pun, went on to say, " You don't know, Mr. King, 
what tricks she can play with her voice. I call her a mu- 
sical ventriloquist. If you want to hear the bell to per- 
fection, ask her to sing ' Toll the bell for lovely Nell.' " 


" Do give me that pleasure," said Alfred, persuasively. 

She sang the pathetic melody, and with voice and piano 
imitated to perfection the slow tolling of a silver-toned 
bell. After a short pause, during which she trifled with 
the keys, while some general remarks were passing, she 
turned to Mr. Fitzgerald, who was leaning on the piano, 
and said, " What shall I sing for you ? " It was a simple 
question, but it pierced the heart of Alfred King with a 
strange new pain. What would he not have given for 
such a soft expression in those glorious eyes when she 
looked at Mm ! 

" Since you are in a ventriloqual mood," answered Mr. 
Fitzgerald, " I should like to hear again what you played 
the last time I was here, — Agatha's Moonlight Prayer, 
from Der Freyschiitz." 

She smiled, and with voice and instrument produced the 
indescribably dreamy effect of the two flutes. It was the 
very moonlight of sound. 

" This is perfectly magical," murmured Alfred. He 
spoke in a low, almost reverential tone ; for the spell of 
moonlight was on him, and the clear, soft voice of the 
singer, the novelty of her peculiar beauty, and the sur- 
passing gracefulness of her motions, as she swayed gently 
to the music of the tones she produced, inspired him with 
a feeling of poetic deference. Through the partially open 
window came the lulling sound of a little trickling fountain 
in the garden, and the air was redolent of jasmine and 
orange-blossoms. On the pier-table was a little sleeping 
Cupid, from whose torch rose the fragrant incense of a 
nearly extinguished pastille. The pervasive spirit of 
beauty in the room, manifested in forms, colors, tones, and 
motions, affected the soul as perfume did the senses. The 


visitors felt they had stayed too long, and yet they lingered. 
Alfred examined the reclining Cupid, and praised the 
gracefulness of its outline. 

" Cupid could never sleep here, nor would the flame of 
his torch ever go out," said Mr. Fitzgerald; "but it is time 
we were going out." 

The young gentlemen exchanged parting salutations 
with their host and his daughters, and moved toward the 
door. But Mr. Fitzgerald paused on the threshold to say, 
" Please play us out with Mozart's ' Good Night. 5 " 

" As organists play worshippers out of the church," add- 
ed Mr. King. 

Rosabella bowed compliance, and, as they crossed the 
outer threshold, they heard the most musical of voices 
singing Mozart's beautiful little melody, " Buena Notte, 
amato bene." The young men lingered near the piazza 
till the last sounds floated away, and then they walked 
forth in the moonlight, — Fitzgerald repeating the air in a 
subdued whistle. 

His first exclamation was, " Is n't that girl a Rose 

" She is, indeed," replied Mr. King ; " and the younger 
sister is also extremely fascinating." 

" Yes, I thought you seemed to think so," rejoined his 
companion. " Which do you prefer ? " 

Shy of revealing his thoughts to a stranger, Mr. King 
replied that each of the sisters was so perfect in her way, 
the other would be wronged by preference. 

" Yes, they are both rare gems of beauty," rejoined Fitz- 
gerald. " If I were the Grand Bashaw, I would have them 
both in my harem." 

The levity of the remark jarred on the feelings of his 


companion, who answered, in a grave and somewhat cold 
tone, " I saw nothing in the manners of the young ladies to 
suggest such a disposition of them." 

" Excuse me," said Fitzgerald, laughing. " I forgot you 
were from the land of Puritans. I meant no indignity to 
the young ladies, I assure you. But when one amuses 
himself with imagining the impossible, it is not worth while 
to be scrupulous about details. I am not the Grand 
Bashaw ; and when I pronounced them fit for his harem, 
I merely meant a compliment to their superlative beauty. 
That Floracita is a mischievous little sprite. Did you ever 
see anything more roguish than her expression while she 
was singing ' Petit blanc, mon bon frere ' ? " 

" That mercurial little song excited my curiosity," re- 
plied Alfred. " Pray what is its origin ? " 

" I think it likelv it came from the French West Indies " 
said Fitzgerald. " It seems to be the love-song of a young 
negress, addressed to a white lover. Floracita may have 
learned it from her mother, who was half French, half 
Spanish. You doubtless observed the foreign sprinkling 
in their talk. They told me they never spoke English 
with their mother. Those who have seen her describe her 
as a wonderful creature, who danced like Taglioni and sang 
like Malibran, and was more beautiful than her daughter 
Rosabella. But the last part of the story is incredible. If 
she were half as handsome, no wonder Mr. Royal idolized 
her, as they say he did." 

" Did he marry her in the French Islands ? " inquired 

" They were not married," answered Fitzgerald. " Of 
course not, for she was a quadroon. But here are my 
lodgings, and I must bid you good night." 


These careless parting words produced great disturbance 
in the spirit of Alfred King. He had heard of those 
quadroon connections, as one hears of foreign customs, 
without any realizing sense of their consequences. That 
his father's friend should be a partner in such an alliance, 
and that these two graceful and accomplished girls should 
by that circumstance be excluded from the society they 
would so greatly ornament, surprised and bewildered him. 
He recalled that tinge in Rosa's complexion, not golden, 
but like a faint, luminous reflection of gold, and that slight 
waviness in the glossy hair, which seemed to him so becom- 
ing. He could not make these peculiarities seem less beau- 
tiful to his imagination, now that he knew them as signs of 
her connection with a proscribed race. And that bewitch- 
ing little Floracita, emerging into womanhood, with the au- 
roral light of childhood still floating round her, she seemed 
like a beautiful Italian child, whose proper place was among 
fountains and statues and pictured forms of art. The skill 
of no Parisian coiffeur could produce a result so pleasing 
as the profusion of raven hair, that would roll itself into 
ringlets. Octoroons ! He repeated the word to himself, 
but it did not disenchant him. It was merely something 
foreign and new to his experience, like Spanish or Italian 
beauty. Yet he felt painfully the false position in which 
they were placed by the unreasoning prejudice of society. 

Though he had had a fatiguing day, when he entered 
his chamber he felt no inclination to sleep. As he slowly 
paced up and down the room, he thought to himself, " My 
good mother shares the prejudice. How could I introduce 
them to her ? " Then, as if impatient with himself, he 
murmured, in a vexed tone, " Why should I think of intro- 
ducing them to my mother ? A few hours ago I did n't 
know of their existence." 


He threw himself on the bed and tried to sleep ; but 
memory was too busy with the scene of enchantment he 
had recently left. A catalpa-tree threw its shadow on the 
moon-lighted curtain. He began to count the wavering 
leaves, in hopes the monotonous occupation would induce 
slumber. After a while he forgot to count ; and as his spirit 
hovered between the inner and the outer world, Floracita 
seemed to be dancing on the leaf shadows in manifold 
graceful evolutions. Then he was watching a little trick- 
ling fountain, and the falling drops were tones of " The 
Light of other Davs." Anon he was wandering among 
flowers in the moonlight, and from afar some one w r as heard 
singing " Casta Diva." The memory of that voice, 

" While slept the limbs and senses all, 
Made everything seem musical." 

Again and again the panorama of the preceding evening 
revolved through the halls of memory with every variety 
of fantastic change. A light laugh broke in upon the 
scenes of enchantment, with the words, " Of course not, 
for she was a quadroon." Then the plaintive melody of 
" Toll the bell " resounded in his ears ; not afar off, but 
loud and clear, as if the singer were in the room. He 
woke with a start, and heard the vibrations of a cathedral 
bell subsiding into silence. It had struck but twice, but in 
his spiritual ear the sounds had been modulated through 
many tones. " Even thus strangely," thought he, " has 
that rich, sonorous voice struck into the dream of my life." 

Again he saw those large, lustrous eyes lowering their 
long-fringed veils under the ardent gaze of Gerald Fitz- 
gerald. Again he thought of his mother, and sighed. At 
last a dreamless sleep stole over him, and both pleasure 
and pain were buried in deep oblivion. 



^HE sun was up before he woke. He rose hastily 
and ordered breakfast and a horse ; for he had re- 
solved the day before upon an early ride. A restless, 
undefined feeling led him in the same direction he had 
taken the preceding evening. He passed the house that 
would forevermore be a prominent feature in the land- 
scape of his life. Vines were gently waving in the morn- 
ing air between the pillars of the piazza, where he had 
lingered entranced to hear the tones of " Buena Notte." 
The bright turban of Tulipa was glancing about, as she 
dusted the blinds. A peacock on the balustrade, in the 
sunshine, spread out his tail into a great Oriental fan, and 
slowly lowered it, making a prismatic shower of topaz, 
sapphires, and emeralds as it fell. It was the first of 
March ; but as he rode on, thinking of the dreary land- 
scape and boisterous winds of New England at that sea- 
son, the air was filled with the fragrance of flowers, and 
mocking-birds and thrushes saluted him with their songs. 
In many places the ground was thickly strewn with oranges, 
and the orange-groves were beautiful with golden fruit and 
silver flowers gleaming among the dark glossy green foli- 
age. Here and there was the mansion of a wealthy plant- 
er, surrounded by whitewashed slave-cabins. The negroes 
at their work, and their black picaninnies rolling about on 
the ground, seemed an appropriate part of the landscape, 
so tropical in its beauty of dark colors and luxuriant 


He rode several miles, persuading himself that he was 
enticed solely by the healthy exercise and the novelty of 
the scene. But more alluring than the pleasant landscape 
and the fragrant air was the hope that, if he returned late, 
the young ladies might be on the piazza, or visible at the 
windows. He was destined to be disappointed. As he 
passed, a curtain was slowly withdrawn from one of the 
windows and revealed a vase of flowers. He rode slowly, 
in hopes of seeing a face bend over the flowers ; but the 
person who drew the curtain remained invisible. On the 
piazza nothing was in motion, except the peacock strutting 
along, stately as a court beauty, and drawing after him his 
long train of jewelled plumage. A voice, joyous as a bob- 
olink's, sounded apparently from the garden. He could 
not hear the words, but the lively tones at once suggested, 
" Petit blanc, mon bon frere." He recalled the words so 
carelessly uttered, " Of course not, for she was a quad- 
roon," and they seemed to make harsh discord with the 
refrain of the song. He remembered the vivid flush that 
passed over Rosa's face while her playful sister teased her 
with that tuneful badinage. It seemed to him that Mr. 
Fitzgerald was well aware of his power, for he had not 
attempted to conceal his consciousness of the singer's mis- 
chievous intent. This train of thought was arrested by the 
inward question, " What is it to me whether he marries her 
or not ? " Impatiently he touched his horse with the whip, 
as if he wanted to rush from the answer to his own query. 

He had engaged to meet Mr. Royal at his counting- 
house, and he was careful to keep the appointment. He 
was received with parental kindness slightly tinged with 
embarrassment. After some conversation about business, 
Mr. Royal said : " From your silence concerning your visit 



to my house last evening, I infer that Mr. Fitzgerald has 
given you some information relating to my daughters' his- 
tory. I trust, my young friend, that you have not sus- 
pected me of any intention to deceive or entrap you. I 
intended to have told you myself; but I had a desire to 
know first how my daughters would impress you, if judged 
by their own merits. Having been forestalled in my pur- 
pose, I am afraid frankness on your part will now be diffi- 

"A feeling of embarrassment did indeed prevent me 
from alluding to my visit as soon as I met you this morn- 
ing," replied Alfred ; " but no circumstances could alter 
my estimate of your daughters. Their beauty and grace- 
fulness exceed anything I have seen." 

" And they are as innocent and good as they are beauti- 
ful," rejoined the father. " But you can easily imagine 
that my pride and delight in them is much disturbed by 
anxiety concerning their future. Latterly, I have thought 
a good deal about closing business and taking them to 
France to reside. But when men get to be so old as I am, 
the process of being transplanted to a foreign soil seems 
onerous. If it were as well for them, I should greatly pre- 
fer returning to my native New England." 

" They are tropical flowers," observed Alfred. " There 
is nothing Northern in their natures." 

" Yes, they are tropical flowers," rejoined the father, 
" and my wish is to place them in perpetual sunshine. I 
doubt whether they could ever feel quite at home far away 
from jasmines and orange-groves. But climate is the 
least of the impediments in the way of taking them to New 
England. Their connection with the enslaved race is so 
very slight, that it might easily be concealed ; but the con- 


sciousness of practising concealment is always unpleasant. 
Your father was more free from prejudices of all sorts than 
any man I ever knew. If he were living, I would confide 
all to him, and be guided implicitly by his advice. You 
resemble him so strongly, that I have been involuntarily 
drawn to open my heart to you, as I never thought to do 
to so young a man. Yet I find the fulness of my confi- 
dence checked by the fear of lowering myself in the esti- 
mation of the son of my dearest friend. But perhaps, if you 
knew all the circumstances, and had had my experience, 
you would find some extenuation of my fault. I was very 
unhappy when I first came to New Orleans. I was de- 
votedly attached to a young lady, and I was rudely repelled 
by her proud and worldly family. I was seized with a 
vehement desire to prove to them that I could become 
richer than they were. I rushed madly into the pursuit 
of wealth, and I was successful ; but meanwhile they had 
married her to another, and I found that wealth alone 
could not bring happiness. In vain the profits of my busi- 
ness doubled and quadrupled. I was unsatisfied, lonely, 
and sad. Commercial transactions brought me into inti- 
mate relations with Senor Gonsalez, a Spanish gentleman 
in St. Augustine. He had formed an alliance with a beau- 
tiful slave, whom he had bought in the French West In- 
dies. I never saw her, for she died before my acquaintance 
with him ; but their daughter, then a girl of sixteen, was 
the most charming creature I ever beheld. The irresistible 
attraction I felt toward her the first moment I saw her was 
doubtless the mere fascination of the senses ; but when I 
came to know her more, I found her so gentle, so tender, 
so modest, and so true, that I loved her with a strong and 
deep affection. I admired her, too, for other reasons than 


her beauty ; for she had many elegant accomplishments, 
procured by her father's fond indulgence during two years' 
residence in Paris. He was wealthy at that time ; but he 
afterward became entangled in pecuniary difficulties, and 
his health declined. He took a liking to me, and proposed 
that I should purchase Eulalia, and thus enable him to 
cancel a debt due to a troublesome creditor whom he sus- 
pected of having an eye upon his daughter. I gave him a 
large sum for her, and brought her with me to New Or- 
leans. Do not despise me for it, my young friend. If it had 
been told to me a few years before, in my New England 
home, that I could ever become a party in such a transac- 
tion, I should have rejected the idea with indignation. 
But my disappointed and lonely condition rendered me an 
easy prey to temptation, and I was where public opinion 
sanctioned such connections. Besides, there were kindly 
motives mixed up with selfish ones. I pitied the unfortu- 
nate father, and I feared his handsome daughter might 
fall into hands that would not protect her so carefully as I 
resolved to do. I knew the freedom of her choice was not 
interfered with, for she confessed she loved me. 

" Seiior Gonsalez, who was more attached to her than to 
anything else in the world, soon afterward gathered up the 
fragments of his broken fortune, and came to reside near 
us. I know it was a great satisfaction to his dying 
hours that he left Eulalia in my care, and the dear girl 
was entirely happy with me. If I had manumitted her, 
carried her abroad, and legally married her, I should have 
no remorse mingled with my sorrow for her loss. Loving 
her faithfully, as I did to the latest moment of her life, I now 
find it difficult to explain to myself how I came to neglect 
such an obvious duty. I was always thinking that I would 


do it at some future time. But marriage with a quadroon 
would have been void, according to the laws of Louisiana ; 
and, being immersed in business, I never seemed to find 
time to take her abroad. When one has taken the first 
wrong step, it becomes dangerously easy to go on in the 
same path. A man's standing here is not injured by such 
irregular connections ; and my faithful, loving Eulalia 
meekly accepted her situation as a portion of her inherited 
destiny. Mine was the fault, not hers ; for I was free to 
do as I pleased, and she never had been. I acted in oppo- 
sition to moral principles, which the education of false cir- 
cumstances had given her no opportunity to form. I had 
remorseful thoughts at times, but I am quite sure she was 
never troubled in that way. She loved and trusted me 
entirely. She knew that the marriage of a white man with 
one of her race was illegal j and she quietly accepted the 
fact, as human beings do accept what they are powerless 
to overcome. Her daughters attributed her olive com- 
plexion to a Spanish origin ; and their only idea was, and 
is, that she was my honored wife, as indeed she was in the 
inmost recesses of my heart. I gradually withdrew from 
the few acquaintances I had formed in New Orleans ; part- 
ly because I was satisfied with the company of Eulalia and 
our children, and partly because I could not take her with 
me into society. She had no acquaintances here, and we 
acquired the habit of living in a little world by ourselves, — 
a world which, as you have seen, was transformed into a 
sort of fairy -land by her love of beautiful things. After I 
lost her. it was my intention to send the children imme- 
diately to France to be educated. But procrastination is 
my besetting sin ; and the idea of parting with them was so 
painful, that I have deferred and deferred it. The suffer- 


ing I experience on their account is a just punishment for 
the wrong I did their mother. When I think how beau- 
tiful, how talented, how affectionate, and how pure they 
are, and in what a cruel position I have placed them, I 
have terrible writhings of the heart. I do not think I am 
destined to long life; and who will protect them when I 
am gone ? " 

A consciousness of last night's wishes and dreams made 
Alfred blush as he said, " It occurred to me that your 
eldest daughter might be betrothed to Mr. Fitzgerald." 

" I hope not," quickly rejoined Mr. Royal. " He is not 
the sort of man with whom I would like to intrust her 
happiness. I think, if it were so, Rosabella would have 
told me, for my children always confide in me." 

"I took it for granted that you liked him," replied Al- 
fred ; " for you said an introduction -to your home was a 
favor you rarely bestowed." 

" I never conferred it on any young man but yourself," 
answered Mr. Royal, " and you owed it partly to my mem- 
ory of your honest father, and partly to the expression of 
your face, which so much resembles his." The young 
man smiled and bowed, and his friend continued : " When 
I invited you, I was not aware Mr. Fitzgerald was in 
the city. I am but slightly acquainted w T ith him, but I 
conjecture him to be what is called a high-blood. His 
manners, though elegant, seem to me flippant and auda- 
cious. He introduced himself into my domestic sanctum ; 
and, as I partook of his father's hospitality years ago, I 
find it difficult to eject him. He came here a few months 
since, to transact some business connected with the set- 
tlement of his father's estate, and, unfortunately, he heard 
Rosabella singing as he rode past my house. He made 


inquiries concerning the occupants ; and, from what I have 
heard, I conjecture that he has learned more of my private 
history than I wished to have him know. He called with- 
out asking my permission, and told my girls that his father 
was my friend, and that he had consequently taken the 
liberty to call with some new music, which he was very 
desirous of hearing them sing. When I was informed of 
this, on my return home, I was exceedingly annoyed ; and 
I have ever since been thinking of closing business as soon 
as possible, and taking my daughters to France. He called 
twice again during his stay in the city, but my daughters 
made it a point to see him only when I was at home. Now 
he has come again, to increase the difficulties of my position 
by his unwelcome assiduities." 

" Unwelcome to you" rejoined Alfred ; " but, handsome 
and fascinating as he is, they are not likely to be unwel- 
come to your daughters. Your purpose of conveying them 
to France is a wise one." 

" Would I had done it sooner ! " exclaimed Mr. Eoyal. 
" How weak I have been in allowing circumstances to drift 
me along ! " He walked up and down the room with agi- 
tated steps ; then, pausing before Alfred, he laid his hand 
affectionately on his shoulder, as he said, with solemn 
earnestness, " My young friend, I am glad your father did 
not accept my proposal to receive you into partnership. 
Let me advise you to live in New England. The institu- 
tions around us have an effect on character which it is dif- 
ficult to escape entirely. Bad customs often lead well- 
meaning men into wrong paths." 

" That was my father's reason for being unwilling I 
should reside in New Orleans," replied Alfred. " He said 
it was impossible to exaggerate the importance of social 


institutions. He often used to speak of having met a num- 
ber of Turkish women when he was in the environs of 
Constantinople. They were wrapped up like bales of cloth, 
with two small openings for their eyes, mounted on camels, 
and escorted by the overseer of the harem. The animal 
sound of their chatter and giggling, as they passed him, 
affected him painfully ; for it forced upon him the idea 
what different beings those women would have been if 
they had been brought up amid the free churches and free 
schools of New England. He always expounded history 
to me in the light of that conviction ; and he mourned that 
temporary difficulties should prevent lawgivers from check- 
ing the growth of evils that must have a blighting influ- 
ence on the souls of many generations. He considered 
slavery a cumulative poison in the veins of this Republic, 
and predicted that it would some day act all at once with 
deadly power." 

" Your father was a wise man," replied Mr. Royal, " and 
I agree with him. But it would be unsafe to announce it 
here ; for slavery is a tabooed subject, except to talk in 
favor of it." 

" I am well aware of that," rejoined Alfred. " And now 
I must bid you good morning. You know my mother is 
an invalid, and I may find letters at the post-office that 
will render immediate return necessary. But I will see 
you again ; and hereafter our acquaintance may perhaps 
be renewed in France." 

" That is a delightful hope," rejoined the merchant, cor- 
dially-returning the friendly pressure of his hand. As he 
looked after the young man, he thought how pleasant it 
would be to have such a son ; and he sighed deeply over 
the vision of a union that might have been, under other 


circumstances, between his family and that of his old 
friend. Alfred, as he walked away, was conscious of that 
latent, unspoken wish. Again the query began to revolve 
through his mind whether the impediments were really in- 
surmountable. There floated before him a vision of that 
enchanting room, where the whole of life seemed to be 
composed of beauty and gracefulness, music and flowers. 
But a shadow of Fitzgerald fell across it, and the recol- 
lection of Boston relatives rose up like an iceberg between 
him and fairy-land. 

A letter informing him of his mother's increasing illness 
excited a feeling of remorse that new acquaintances had 
temporarily nearly driven her from his thoughts. He re- 
solved to depart that evening ; but the desire to see Rosa- 
bella again could not be suppressed. Failing to find Mr. 
Royal at his counting-room or his hotel, he proceeded to 
his suburban residence. When Tulipa informed him that 
" massa " had not returned from the city, he inquired for 
the young ladies, and was again shown into that parlor 
every feature of which was so indelibly impressed upon 
his memory. Portions of the music of Generentola lay 
open on the piano, and the leaves fluttered softly in a gen- 
tle breeze laden with perfumes from the garden. Near by 
was swinging the beaded tassel of a book-mark between 
the pages of a half-opened volume. He looked at the 
title and saw that it was Lai la Rookh. He smiled, as he 
glanced round the room on the flowery festoons, the grace- 
ful tangle of bright arabesques on the walls, the Dancing 
Girl, and the Sleeping Cupid. " All is in harmony with 
Canova, and Moore, and Rossini," thought he. " The Lady 
in Milton's Comus has been the ideal of my imagination ; 
and now here I am so strangely taken captive by " 



Rosabella entered at that moment, and almost startled 
him with the contrast to his ideal. Her glowing Oriental 
beauty and stately grace impressed him more than ever. 
Floracita's fairy form and airy motions were scarcely less 
fascinating. Their talk was very girlish. Floracita had 
just been reading in a French paper about the performance 
of La Bayadere, and she longed to see the ballet brought 
out in Paris. Rosabella thought nothing could be quite so 
romantic as to float on the canals of Venice by moonlight 
and listen to the nightingales ; and she should so like to 
cross the Bridge of Sighs ! Then they went into raptures 
over the gracefulness of Rossini's music, and the brilliancy 
of Auber's. Very few and very slender thoughts were 
conveyed in their words, but to the young man's ear they 
had the charm of music ; for Floracita's talk went as trip- 
pingly as a lively dance, and the sweet modulations of 
Rosabella's voice so softened English to Italian sound, that 
her words seemed floating on a liquid element, like goldfish 
in the water. Indeed, her whole nature seemed to partake 
the fluid character of music. Beauty born of harmonious 
sound " had passed into her face," and her motions remind- 
ed one of a water-lily undulating on its native element. 

The necessity of returning immediately to Boston was 
Alfred's apology for a brief call. Repressed feeling im- 
parted great earnestness to the message he left for his 
father's friend. While he was uttering it, the conversation 
he had recently had with Mr. Royal came back to him 
with painful distinctness. After parting compliments were 
exchanged, he turned to say, " Excuse me, young ladies, 
if, in memory of our fathers' friendship, I beg of you to 
command my services, as if I were a brother, should it 
ever be in my power to serve you." 


Rosabella thanked him with a slight inclination of her 
graceful head ; and Floracita, dimpling a quick little 
courtesy, said sportively, " If some cruel Blue-Beard 
should shut us up in his castle, we will send for you." 

" How funny ! " exclaimed the volatile child, as the door 
closed after him. " He spoke as solemn as a minister ; but 
I suppose that 's the way with Yankees. I think cher papa 
likes to preach sometimes." 

Rosabella, happening to glance at the window, saw that 
Alfred King paused in the street and looked back. How 
their emotions would have deepened could they have fore- 
seen the future ! 



YEAR passed away, and the early Southern spring 
had again returned with flowers and fragrance. Af- 
ter a day in music and embroidery, with sundry games 
at Battledoor and The Graces with her sister, Floracita 
heard the approaching footsteps of her father, and, as usual, 
bounded forth to meet him. Any one who had not seen 
him since he parted from the son of his early New England 
friend would have observed that he looked older and more 
careworn ; but his daughters, accustomed to see him daily, 
had not noticed the gradual change. 

" You have kept us waiting a little, Papasito," said 
Rosabella, turning round on the music-stool, and greeting 
him with a smile. 

" Yes, my darling," rejoined he, placing his hand fondly 
on her head. " Getting ready to go to Europe makes a 
deal of work." 

" If we were sons, we could help you," said Rosabella. 

" I wish you were sons ! " answered he, with serious em- 
phasis and a deep sigh. 

Floracita nestled close to him, and, looking up archly in 
his face, said, " And pray what would you do, papa, with- 
out your nightingale and your fairy, as you call us?" 

" Sure enough, what should I do, my little flower ? " 
said he, as with a loving smile he stooped to kiss her. 

They led him to the tea-table ; and when the repast was 
ended, they began to talk over their preparations for leav- 
ing home. 


" Cher papa, how long before we shall go to Paris ? ' 
inquired Floracita. 

" In two or three weeks, T hope," was the reply. 

" Won't it be delightful ! " exclaimed she. " You will 
take us to see ballets and everything." 

" When I am playing and singing fragments of operas," 
said Rosabella, " I often think to myself how wonderfully 
beautiful they would sound, if all the parts were brought 
out by such musicians as they have in Europe. I should 
greatly enjoy hearing operas in Paris ; but I often think, 
Papasito, that we can never be so happy anywhere as we 
have been in this dear home. It makes me feel sad to 
leave all these pretty things, — so many of them '' 

She hesitated, and glanced at her father. 

" So intimately associated with your dear mother, you 
were about to say," replied he. " That thought is often 
present with me, and the idea of parting with them pains 
me to the heart. But I do not intend they shall ever be 
handled by strangers. We will pack them carefully and 
leave them with Madame Guirlande ; and when we get 
settled -abroad, in some nice little cottage, we will send for 
them. But when you have been in Paris, when you have 
seen the world and the world has seen you, perhaps you 
won't be contented to live in a cottage with your old Papa- 
sito. Perhaps your heads will become so turned with flat- 
tery, that you will want to be at balls and operas all the 

" No flattery will be so sweet as yours, cher papa" said 

" No indeed ! " exclaimed Rosa. But, looking up, she 
met his eye, and blushed crimson. She was conscious of 
having already listened to flattery that was at least more 


intoxicating than his. Her father noticed the rosy confu- 
sion, and felt a renewal of pain that unexpected entangle- 
ments had prevented his going to Europe months ago. He 
tenderly pressed her hand, that lay upon his knee, and 
looked at her with troubled earnestness, as he said, " Now 
that you are going to make acquaintance with the world, 
my daughters, and without a mother to guide you, I want 
you to promise me that you will never believe any gentle- 
man sincere in professions of love, unless he proposes mar- 
riage, and asks my consent." 

Rosabella was obviously agitated, but she readily replied, 
" Do you suppose, Papasito, that we would accept a lover 
■without asking you about it ? When Mamita querida died, 
she charged us to tell you everything ; and we always do." 

" I do not doubt you, my children," he replied ; " but 
the world is full of snares ; and sometimes they are so cov- 
ered with flowers, that the inexperienced slip into them 
unawares. I shall try to shield you from harm, as I al- 
ways have done ; but when I am gone — " 

" O, don't say that ! " exclaimed Floracita, with a quick, 
nervous movement. 

And Rosabella looked at him with swimming eyes, as 
she repeated, " Don't say that, Papasito querido ! " 

He laid a hand on the head of each. His heart was 
very full. With solemn tenderness he tried to warn them 
of the perils of life. But there was much that he was 
obliged to refrain from saying, from reverence for their 
inexperienced purity. And had he attempted to describe 
the manners of a corrupt world, they could have had no 
realizing sense of his meaning ; for it is impossible for 
youth to comprehend the dangers of the road it is to travel. 

The long talk at last subsided into serious silence. 


After remaining very still a few moments, Rosabella said 
softy, " Would n't you like to bear some music before you 
go to bed, Papasito mio ? " 

He nodded assent, and she moved to the piano. Their 
conversation had produced an unusually tender and sub- 
dued state of feeling, and she sang quietly many plaintive 
melodies that her mother loved. The fountain trickling in 
the garden kept up a low liquid accompaniment, and the 
perfume of the orange-groves seemed like the fragrant 
breath of the tones. 

It was late when they parted for the night. " Bon soir, 
cher papa" said Floracita, kissing her father's hand. 

" Buenas noches, Papasito querido" said Rosabella, as 
she touched his cheek with her beautiful lips. 

There was moisture in his eyes as he folded them to his 
heart and said, " God bless you ! God protect you, my dear 
ones ! " Those melodies of past times had brought their 
mother before him in all her loving trustfulness, and his 
soul was full of sorrow for the irreparable wrong he had 
done her children. 

The pensive mood, that had enveloped them all in a 
little cloud the preceding evening, was gone in the morn- 
ing. There was the usual bantering during breakfast, and 
after they rose from table they discussed in a lively man- 
ner various plans concerning their residence in France. 
Rosabella evidently felt much less pleasure in the prospect 
than did her younger sister ; and her father, conjecturing 
the reason, was the more anxious to expedite their depart- 
ure. "I must not linger here talking," said he. "I must 
go and attend to business ; for there are many things to be 
arranged before we can set out on our travels." 

" Hasta luego, Papasito mio" said Rosabella, with an 
affectionate smile. 



"Au revoir, cher papa" said Floracita, as she handed 
him his hat. 

He patted her head playfully as he said, " What a 
polyglot family we are ! Your grandfather 's Spanish, 
your grandmother 's French, and your father 's English, all 
mixed up in an olla podrida. Good morning, my dar- 

Floracita skipped out on the piazza, calling after him, 
" Papa, what is polyglot ? " 

He turned and shook his finger laughingly at her, as he 
exclaimed, " O, you little ignoramus ! " 

The sisters lingered on the piazza, watching him till he 
was out of sight. When they re-entered the house, Flora- 
cita occupied herself with various articles of her wardrobe ; 
consulting with Rosa whether any alterations would be 
necessary before they were packed for France. It evi- 
dently cost Rosa some effort to attend to her innumerable 
questions, for the incessant chattering disturbed her rev- 
ery. At every interval she glanced round the room with a 
sort of farewell tenderness. It was more to her than the 
home of a happy childhood ; for nearly all the familiar 
objects had become* associated with glances and tones, the 
memory of which excited restless longings in her heart. 
As she stood gazing on the blooming garden and the little 
fountain, whose sparkling rills crossed each other, in the 
sunshine like a silvery network strung with diamonds, she 
exclaimed, " Floracita, we shall never be so happy any- 
where else as we have been here." 

" How do you know that, sistita mia ? " rejoined the 
lively little chatterer. " Only think, we have never been 
to a ball ! And when we get to France, Papasito will go 
everywhere with us. He says he will." 


" I should like to hear operas and see ballets in Paris," 
said Rosabella ; " but I wish we could come back here be- 
fore long." 

Floracita's laughing eyes assumed the arch expression 

which rendered them peculiarly bewitching, and she began 

to sing, — 

" Petit blanc, mon bon frere ! 

Ha ! ha ! petit blanc si doux ! 

II n'y a rien sur la terre 

De si joli que vous. 

"Un petit blanc que j'aime — " 

A quick flush mantled her sister's face, and she put her 
hand over the mischievous mouth, exclaiming, 4i Don't, 
Flora! don't!" 

The roguish little creature went laughing and capering 
out of the room, and her voice was still heard singing, — 

"Un petit blanc que j'aime." 

The arrival of Signor Papanti soon summoned her to 
rehearse a music lesson. She glanced roguishly at her 
sister when she began ; and as she went on, Rosa could 
not help smiling at her musical antics. The old teacher 
bore it patiently for a while, then he stopped trying to ac- 
company her, and, shaking his finger at her, said, " Diavo- 
lessa ! " 

" Did I make a false note ? " asked she, demurely. 

" No, you little witch, you canH make a false note. But 
how do you suppose I can keep hold of the tail of the Air, 
if you send me chasing after it through so many capricious 
variations ? Now begin again, da capo" 

The lesson was recommenced, but soon ran riot again. 
The Signor became red in the face, shut the music-book 
with a slam, and poured forth a volley of wrath in Italian, 



When she saw that he was really angry, she apologized, 
and promised to do better. The third time of trying, she 
acquitted herself so well that her teacher praised her ; and 
when she bade him good morning, with a comic little 
courtesy, he smiled good-naturedly, as he said, "Ah, Mdli- 
zictta ! " 

" I knew I should make Signor Pimentero sprinkle some 
pepper," exclaimed she, laughing, as she saw him walk 

" You are too fond of sobriquets," said Rosa. "If you 
are not careful, you will call him Signor Pimentero to his 
face, some day." 

" What did you tell me that for ? " asked the little rogue. 
"It will just make me do it. Now I am going to pester 
Madame's parrot." 

She caught up her large straw hat, with flying ribbons, 
and ran to the house of their next neighbor, Madame 
Guirlande. She was a French lady, who had given the 
girls lessons in embroidery, the manufacture of artificial 
flowers, and other fancy-work. Before long, Floracita re- 
turned through the garden, skipping over a jumping-rope. 
" This is a day of compliments," said she, as she entered 
the parlor, " Signor Pimentero called me Diavolessa ; 
Madame Guirlande called me Joli petit diable ; and the 
parrot took it up, and screamed it after me, as I came 

" I don't wonder at it," replied Rosa. " I think I never 
saw even you so full of mischief." 

Her frolicsome mood remained through the day. One 
moment she assumed the dignified manner of Rosabella, 
and, stretching herself to the utmost, she stood very erect, 
giving sage advice. The next, she was impersonating a 


negro preacher, one of Tulipa's friends. Hearing a mock- 
ing-bird in the garden, she went to the window and taxed 
his powers to the utmost, by running up and down difficult 
roulades^ interspersed with the talk of parrots, the shrill 
fanfare of trumpets, and the deep growl of a contra* fagotto. 
The bird produced a grotesque fantasia in his efforts to 
imitate her. The peacock, as he strutted up and down the 
piazza, trailing his gorgeous plumage in the sunshine, ever 
and anon turned his glossy neck, and held up his ear to 
listen, occasionally performing his part in the charivari by 
uttering a harsh scream. The mirthfulness of the little 
madcap was contagious, and not unfrequently the giggle of 
Tulipa and the low musical laugh of Rosabella mingled 
with the concert. 

Thus the day passed merrily away, till the gilded Flora 
that leaned against the timepiece pointed her wand toward 
the hour when their father was accustomed to return. 



FLORA CITA was still in the full career of fun, when 
footsteps were heard approaching ; and, as usual, she 
bounded forth to welcome her father. Several men, bear- 
ing a palanquin on their shoulders, were slowly ascending 
the piazza. She gave one glance at their burden, and ut- 
tered a shrill scream. Rosabella hastened to her in great 
alarm. Tulipa followed, and quickly comprehending that 
something terrible had happened, she hurried away to 
summon Madame Guirlande. Rosabella, pale and trem- 
bling, gasped out, " What has happened to my father ? " 

Franz Blu men thai, a favorite clerk of Mr. Royal's, re- 
plied, in a low, sympathizing tone, " He was writing letters 
in the counting-room this afternoon, and when I went in to 
speak to him, I found him on the floor senseless. We 
called a doctor immediately, but he failed to restore him." 

" O, call another doctor ! " said Rosa, imploringly ; and 
Floracita almost shrieked, " Tell me where to go for a 

"We have already summoned one on the way," said 
young Blumenthal, " but I will go to hasten him" ; — and, 
half blinded by his tears, he hurried into the street. 

The doctor came in two minutes, and yet it seemed an 
age. Meanwhile the wretched girls were chafing their fa- 
ther's cold hands, and holding sal-volatile to his nose, while 
Madame Guirlande and Tulipa were preparing hot water 
and hot cloths. When the physician arrived, they watched 
his countenance anxiously, while he felt the pulse and laid 


his hand upon the heart. After a while he shook his head 
and said, " Nothing can be done. He is dead." 

Rosabella fell forward, fainting, on the body. Floracita 
uttered shriek upon shriek, while Madame Guirlande and 
Tulipa vainly tried to pacify her. The doctor at last per- 
suaded her to swallow some valerian, and Tulipa carried 
her in her arms and laid her on the bed. Madame Guir- 
lande led Rosa away, and the two sisters lay beside each 
other, on the same pillows where they had dreamed such 
happy dreams the night before. Floracita, stunned by the 
blow that had fallen on her so suddenly, and rendered 
drowsy by the anodyne she had taken, soon fell into an 
uneasy slumber, broken by occasional starts and stifled 
sobs. Rosabella wept silently, but now and then a shud- 
der passed over her, that showed how hard she was strug- 
gling with grief. After a short time, Flora woke up 
bewildered. A lamp was burning in the farther part of 
the room, and Madame Guirlande, who sat there in spec- 
tacles and ruffled cap, made a grotesque black shadow on 
the wall. Floracita started up, screaming, " What is 
that ? " Madame Guirlande went to her, and she and 
Rosa spoke soothingly, and soon she remembered all. 

" O, let me go home with you" she said to Madame 
"I am afraid to stay here." 

" Yes, my children," replied the good Frenchwoman. 
" You had better both go home and stay with me to-night." 

"I cannot go away and leave him alone," murmured 
Rosa, in tones almost inaudible. 

" Franz Blumenthal is going to remain here," replied 
Madame Guirlande, " and Tulipa has offered to sit up all 
night. It is much better for you to go with me than to 
stay here, my children." 


Thus exhorted, they rose and began to make prepara- 
tions for departure. But all at once the tender good-night 
of the preceding evening rushed on Rosa's memory, and she 
sank down in a paroxysm of grief. After weeping bitterly 
for some minutes, she sobbed out, " 0, this is worse than 
it was when Mamita died. Papasito was so tender with 
us then ; and now we are all alone." 

" Not all alone," responded Madame. " Jesus and the 
Blessed Virgin are with you." 

" O, I don't know where they are ! " exclaimed Flora, in 
tones of wild agony. " I want my Papasito ! I want to die 
and go to my Papasito." 

Rosabella folded her in her arms, and they mingled their 
tears together, as she whispered : " Let us try to be tran- 
quil, Sistita. We must not be troublesome to our kind 
friend. I did wrong to say we were all alone. We have 
always a Father in heaven, and he still spares us to love 
each other. Perhaps, too, our dear Papasito is watching 
over us. You know he used to tell us Mamita had become 
our guardian angel." 

Floracita kissed her, and pressed her hand in silence. 
Then they made preparations to go with their friendly 
neighbor ; all stepping very softly, as if afraid of waking 
the beloved sleeper. 

The sisters had lived in such extreme seclusion, that 
when sorrow came upon them, like the sudden swoop and 
swift destruction of a tropical storm, they had no earthly 
friend to rely upon but Madame Guirlande. Only the day 
before, they had been so rich in love, that, had she passed 
away from the earth, it would have made no distressing 
change in their existence. They would have said, " Poor 
Madame Guirlande ! She was a good soul. How patient 


she used to be with us ! " and after a day or two, they 
would have danced and sung the same as ever. But one 
day had so beggared thern in affection, that they leaned 
upon her as their only earthly support. 

After an almost untasted breakfast, they all went back to 
the desolated home. The flowery parlor seemed awfully 
lonesome. The piano was closed, the curtains drawn, and 
their father's chair was placed against the wall. The mur- 
mur of the fountain sounded as solemn as a dirge, and mem- 
ories filled the room like a troop of ghosts. Hand in hand, 
the bereaved ones went to kiss the lips that would speak to 
them no more in this world. They knelt long beside the 
bed, and poured forth their breaking hearts in prayer. 
They rose up soothed and strengthened, with the feeling 
that their dear father and mother were still near them. 
They found a sad consolation in weaving garlands and 
flowery crosses, which they laid on the coffin with tender 

When the day of the funeral came, Madame Guirlande 
kept them very near her, holding a hand of each. She had 
provided them with long veils, which she requested them 
not to remove ; for she remembered how anxiously their 
father had screened their beauty from the public gaze. 
A number of merchants, who had known and respected Mr. 
Royal, followed his remains to the grave. Most of them 
had heard of his quadroon connection, and some supposed 
that the veiled mourners might be his daughters ; but such 
things were too common to excite remark, or to awaken 
much interest. The girls passed almost unnoticed ; hav- 
ing, out of respect to the wishes of their friend, stifled their 
sobs till they were alone in the carriage with her and their 
old music-teacher. 


The conviction that he was not destined to long life, 
which Mr. Royal had expressed to Alfred King, was 
founded on the opinion of physicians that his heart was 
diseased. This furnished an additional motive for closing 
his business as soon as possible, and taking his children to 
France. But the failure of several houses with which he 
was connected brought unexpected entanglements. Month 
by month, these became more complicated, and necessarily 
delayed the intended emigration. His anxiety concerning 
his daughters increased to an oppressive degree, and ag- 
gravated the symptoms of his disease. With his habitual 
desire to screen them from everything unpleasant, he un- 
wisely concealed from them both his illness and his pecu- 
niary difficulties. He knew he could no longer be a rich 
man ; but he still had hope of saving enough of his fortune 
to live in a moderate way in some cheap district of France. 
But on the day when he bade his daughters good morning 
so cheerfully, he received a letter informing him of another 
extensive failure, which involved him deeply. He was 
alone in his counting-room when he read it ; and there 
Franz Blumenthal found him dead, with the letter in his 
hand. His sudden exit of course aroused the vigilance of 
creditors, and their examination into the state of his affairs 
proved anything but satisfactory. 

The sisters, unconscious of all this, were undisturbed by 
any anxiety concerning future support. The necessity of 
living without their father's love and counsel weighed heav- 
ily on their spirits ; but concerning his money they took 
no thought. Hitherto they had lived as the birds do, and 
it did not occur to them that it could ever be otherwise. 
The garden and the flowery parlor, which their mother had 
created and their father had so dearly loved, seemed almost 


as much a portion of themselves as their own persons. It 
had been hard to think of leaving them, even for the attrac- 
tions of Paris ; and now that dream was over, it seemed a 
necessity of their existence to live on in the atmosphere of 
beauty to which they had always been accustomed. But 
now that the sunshine of love had vanished from it, they 
felt lonely and unprotected there. They invited Madame 
Guirlande to come and live with them on what terms she 
chose ; and when she said there ought to be some elderly 
man in the house, they at once suggested inviting their 
music-teacher. Madame, aware of the confidence Mr. Royal 
had always placed in him, thought it was the best arrange- 
ment that could be made, at least for the present. While 
preparations were being made to effect this change, her 
proceedings were suddenly arrested by tidings that the 
house and furniture were to be sold at auction, to satisfy 
the demands of creditors. She kept back the unwelcome 
news from the girls, while she held long consultations with 
Signor Papanti. He declared his opinion that Rosabella 
could make a fortune by her voice, and Floracita by 

"But then they are so young," urged Madame, — "one 
only sixteen, the other only fourteen." 

" Youth is a disadvantage one soon outgrows," replied 
the Signor. " They can't make fortunes immediately, of 
course ; but they can earn a living by giving lessons. I 
will try to open a way for them, and the sooner you pre- 
pare them for it the better." 

Madame dreaded the task of disclosing their poverty, but 
she found it less painful than she had feared. They had 
no realizing sense of what it meant, and rather thought that 
giving lessons would be a pleasant mode of making time 


pass less heavily. Madame, who fully understood the con- 
dition of things, kept a watchful lookout for their interests. 
Before an inventory was taken, she gathered up and hid 
away many trifling articles which would be useful to them, 
though of little or no value to the creditors. Portfolios of 
music, patterns for drawings, boxes of paint and crayons, 
baskets of chenille for embroidery, and a variety of other 
things, were safely packed away out of sight, without the 
girls' taking any notice of her proceedings. 

During her father's lifetime, Floracita was so continually 
whirling round in fragmentary dances, that he often told 
her she rested on her feet less than a humming-bird. But 
after he was gone, she remained very still from morning till 
night. When Madame spoke to her of the necessity of 
giving dancing-lessons, it suggested the idea of practising. 
But she felt that she could not dance where she had been 
accustomed to dance before Mm ; and she had not the heart 
to ask Rosa to play for her. She thought she would try, in 
the solitude of her chamber, how it would seem to give 
dancing-lessons. But without music, and without a specta- 
tor, it seemed so like the ghost of dancing that after a few 
steps the poor child threw herself on the bed and sobbed. 

Rosa did not open the piano for several days after the 
funeral ; but one morning, feeling as if it would be a relief 
to pour forth the sadness that oppressed her, she began to 
play languidly. Only requiems and prayers came. Half 
afraid of summoning an invisible spirit, she softly touched 
the keys to " The Light of other Days." But remember- 
ing it was the very last tune she ever played to her father, 
she leaned her head forward on the instrument, and wept 

While she sat thus the door-bell rang, and she soon be- 


came conscious of steps approaching the parlor. Her heart 
gave a sudden leap ; for her first thought was of Gerald 
Fitzgerald. She raised her head, wiped away her tears, 
and rose to receive the visitor. Three strangers entered. 
She bowed to them, and they, with a little look of surprise, 
bowed to her. u What do you wish for, gentlemen ? " she 

" We are here concerning the settlement of Mr. Royal's 
estate," replied one of them. " We have been appointed to 
take an inventory of the furniture." 

While he spoke, one of his companions was inspecting 
the piano, to see who was the maker, and another was 
examining the timepiece. 

It was too painful ; and Rosa, without trusting herself to 
speak another word, walked quietly out of the room, the 
gathering moisture in her eyes making it difficult* for her 
to guide her steps. 

" Is that one of the daughters we have heard spoken of? " 
inquired one of the gentlemen. 

" I judge so," rejoined his companion. " What a royal 
beauty she is ! Good for three thousand, I should say." 

" More likely five thousand," added the third. " Such a 
fancy article as that don't appear in the market once in 
fifty years." 

" Look here ! " said the first speaker. " Do you see that 
pretty little creature crossing the garden ? I reckon that 's 
the other daughter." 

" They '11 bring high prices," continued the third speaker. 
" They 're the best property Royal has left. We may count 
them eight or ten thousand, at least. Some of our rich 
fanciers would jump at the chance of obtaining one of them 
for that price." As he spoke, he looked significantly at 


the first speaker, who refrained from expressing any opin- 
ion concerning their pecuniary value. 

All unconscious of the remarks she had elicited, Rosa 
retired to her chamber, where she sat at the window 
plunged in mournful revery. She was thinking of vari- 
ous articles her mother had painted and embroidered, and 
how her father had said he could not bear the thought of 
their being handled by strangers. Presently Floracita 
came running in, saying, in a flurried way, " Who are those 
men down stairs, Rosa ? " 

" I don't know who they are," replied her sister. " They 
said they came to take an inventory of the furniture. I 
don't know what right they have to do it. I wish Madame 
would come." 

" I will run and call her," said Floracita. 

" No, you had better stay with me," replied Rosa. " I 
was just going to look for you when you came in." 

" I ran into the parlor first, thinking you were there," 
rejoined Floracita. " I saw one of those men turning 
over Mamita's embroidered ottoman, and chalking some- 
thing on it. How dear papa would have felt if he had 
seen it! One of them looked at me in such a strange 
way ! I don't know what he meant ; but it made me want 
to run away in a minute. Hark ! I do believe they have 
come up stairs, and are in papa's room. They won't come 
here, will they ? " 

" Bolt the door ! " exclaimed Rosa ; and it was quickly 
done. They sat folded in each other's arms, very much 
afraid, though they knew not wherefore. 

"Ah ! " said Rosa, with a sigh of relief, "there is Madame 
coming." She leaned out of the window, and beckoned to 
her impatiently. 


Her friend hastened her steps ; and when she heard of 
the strangers who were in the house, she said, " You had 
better go home with me, and stay there till they are 

" What are they going to do?" inquired Floracita. 

" I will tell you presently," replied Madame, as she led 
them noiselessly out of the house by a back way. 

When they entered her own little parlor, the parrot 
called out, " Joli petit diable ! " and after waiting for the 
old familiar response, " Bon jour^jolie Manon!" she be- 
gan to call herself " Jolie Manon ! " and to sing, " Ha ! 
ha ! petit blanc, mon bon frere ! " The poor girls had no 
heart for play ; and Madame considerately silenced the 
noisy bird by hanging a cloth over the cage. 

"My dear children," said she, "I would gladly avoid 
telling you anything calculated to make you more un- 
happy. But you must know the state of things sooner or 
later, and it is better that a friend should tell you. Your 
father owed money to those men, and they are seeing what 
they can find to sell in order to get their pay." 

" Will they sell the table and boxes Mamita paint- 
ed, and the ottomans she embroidered ? " inquired Rosa, 

" Will they sell the piano that papa gave to Rosa for a 
birthday present ? " asked Flora. 

" I am afraid they will," rejoined Madame. 

The girls covered their faces and groaned. 

" Don't be so distressed, my poor children," said their 
sympathizing friend. " I have been trying to save a little 
something for you. See here!" And she brought forth 
some of the hidden portfolios and boxes, saying, " These 
will be of great use to you, my darlings, in helping you to 


earn your living, and they would bring almost nothing at 

They thanked their careful friend for her foresight. 
But when she brought forward their mother's gold watch 
and diamond ring, Rosa said, "I would rather not keep 
such expensive things, dear friend. You know our dear 
father was the soul of honor. It would have troubled him 
greatly not to pay what he owed. I would rather have 
the ring and the watch sold to pay his debts." 

"I will tell the creditors what you say," answered 
Madame, " and they will be brutes if they don't let you keep 
your mother's things. Your father owed Signor Papanti a 
little bill, and he says he will try to get the table and box- 
es, and some other things, in payment, and then you shall 
have them all. You will earn enough to buy another 
piano by and by, and you can use mine, you know ; so 
don't be discouraged, my poor children." 

" God has been very good to us to raise us up such 
friends as you and the Signor," replied Rosa. " You don't 
know how it comforts me to have you call us your chil- 
dren, for without you we should be all alone in the world." 



SUCH sudden reverses, such overwhelming sorrows, ma- 
ture characters with wonderful rapidity. Rosa, though 
formed by nature and habit to cling to others, soon began 
to form plans for future support. Her inexperienced mind 
foresaw few of the difficulties involved in the career her 
friends had suggested. She merely expected to study and 
work hard ; but that seemed a trifle, if she could avoid for 
herself and her sister the publicity which their father had 
so much dreaded. 

Floracita, too, seemed like a tamed bird. She was 
sprightly as ever in her motions, and quick in her ges- 
tures ; but she would sit patiently at her task of embroid- 
ery, hour after hour, without even looking up to answer 
the noisy challenges of the parrot. Sometimes the sisters, 
while they worked, sang together the hymns they had 
been accustomed to sing with their father on Sundays ; 
and memory of the missing voice imparted to their tones a 
pathos that no mere skill could imitate. 

One day, when they were thus occupied, the door-bell 
rang, and they heard a voice, which they thought they 
recognized, talking with Madame. It was Franz Blumen- 
thal. " I have come to bring some small articles for the 
young ladies," said he. " A week before my best friend 
died, a Frenchwoman came to the store, and wished to 
sell some fancy-baskets. She said she was a poor widow ; 
and Mr. Royal, who was always kind and generous, com- 
missioned her to make two of her handsomest baskets, and 


embroider the names of his daughters on them. She has 
placed them in my hands to-day, and I have brought them 
myself in order to explain the circumstances." 

" Are they paid for ? " inquired Madame. 

" I have paid for them," replied the young man, blushing 
deeply ; " but please not to inform the young ladies of that 
circumstance. And, Madame, I have a favor to ask of you. 
Here are fifty dollars. I want you to use them for the 
young ladies without their knowledge ; and I should like 
to remit to you half my wages every month for the same 
purpose. When Mr. Royal was closing business, he wrote 
several letters of recommendation for me, and addressed 
them to well-established merchants. I feel quite sure of 
getting a situation where I can earn more than I need for 

" Bon gargon ! " exclaimed Madame, patting him on the 
shoulder. " I will borrow the fifty dollars ; but I trust we 
shall be able to pay you before many months." 

" It will wound my feelings if you ever offer to repay 
me," replied the young man. " My only regret is, that I 
cannot just now do any more for the daughters of my best 
friend and benefactor, who did so much for me when I was 
a poor, destitute boy. But would it be asking too great a 
favor, Madame, to be allowed to see the young ladies, and 
place in their hands these presents from their father ? " 

Madame Guirlande smiled as she thought to herself, 
" What is he but a boy now ? He grows tall though." 

When she told her protegees that Franz Blumenthal 
had a message he wished to deliver to them personally, 
Bosa said, " Please go and receive it, Sistita. I had 
rather not leave my work." 

Floracita glanced at the mirror, smoothed her hair a lit- 


tie, arranged her collar, and went out. The young clerk 
was awaiting her appearance with a good deal of trepida- 
tion. He had planned a very nice little speech to make ; 
but before he had stammered out all the story about 
the baskets, he saw an expression in Flora's face which 
made him feel that it was indelicate to intrude upon her 
emotion ; and he hurried away, scarcely hearing her 
choked voice as she said, "I thank you." 

Very reverently the orphans opened the box which con- 
tained the posthumous gifts of their beloved father. The 
baskets were manufactured with exquisite taste. They 
were lined with quilled apple-green satin. Around the 
outside of one was the name of Rosabella embroidered in 
flowers, and an embroidered garland of roses formed the 
handle. The other bore the name of Floracita in minute 
flowers, and the handle was formed of Pensees vivaces. 
They turned them round slowly, unable to distinguish the 
colors through their swimming tears. 

" How like Papasito, to be so kind to the poor woman, 
and so thoughtful to please us," said Rosabella. " But he 
was always so." 

" And he must have told her what flowers to put on the ■ 
baskets," said Floracita. " You know Mamita often called 
me Pensee vivace. O, there never was such a Papa- 

Notwithstanding the sadness that invested tokens coming 
as it were from the dead, they inspired a consoling con- 
sciousness of his presence ; and their work seemed pleas- 
anter all the day for having their little baskets by them. 

The next morning witnessed a private conference be- 
tween Madame and the Signor. If any one had seen them 
without hearing their conversation, he would certainly have 

3 . D 


thought they were rehearsing some very passionate scene 
in a tragedy. 

The fiery Italian rushed up and down the room, pluck- 
ing his hair ; while the Frenchwoman ever and anon threw 
up her hands, exclaiming, " Mon Dieu ! Mon Dieu ! " 

When the violence of their emotions had somewhat 
abated, Madame said, " Signor, there must be some mis- 
take about this. It cannot be true. Mr. Royal would 
never have left things in such a way." 

" At your request,'' replied the Signor, " I went to One 
of the creditors, to ask whether Mr. Royal's family could 
not be allowed to keep their mother's watch and jewels. 
He replied that Mr. Royal left no family ; that his daugh- 
ters were slaves, and, being property themselves, they 
could legally hold no property. I was so sure my friend 
Royal would not have left things in such a state, that 
I told him he lied, and threatened to knock him down. 
He out with his pistol ; but when I told him I had left 
mine at home, he said I must settle with him some other 
time, unless I chose to make an apology. I told him I 
would do so whenever I was convinced that his statement 
was true. I was never more surprised than when he told 
me that Madame Royal was a slave. I knew she was a 
quadroon, and I supposed she was a placee, as so many of 
the quadroons are. But now it seems that Mr. Royal 
bought her of her father ; and he, good, easy man, neg- 
lected to manumit her. He of course knew that by law 
' the child follows the condition of the mother,' but I sup- 
pose it did not occur to him that the daughters of so rich a 
man as he was could ever be slaves. At all events, he 
neglected to have manumission papers drawn till it was too 
late ; for his property had become so much involved that 


lie no longer had a legal right to convey any of it away 
from creditors." 

Madame swung back and forth in the vehemence of her 
agitation, exclaiming, " What is to be done ? What is to 
be done ? " 

The Italian strode up and down the room, clenching his 
fist, and talking rapidly. " To think of that Rosabella ! " 
exclaimed he, — "a girl that would grace any throne in 
Europe ! To think of her on the auction-stand, with a 
crowd of low-bred rascals staring at her, and rich liber- 
tines, like that Mr. Bruteman — Pah ! I can't endure 
to think of it. How like a satyr he looked while he was 
talking to me about their being slaves. It seems he got 
sight of them when they took an inventory of the furni- 
ture. And that handsome little witch, Floracita, whom 
her father loved so tenderly, to think of her being bid off 
to some such filthy wretch ! But they sha' n't have 'em ! 
They sha' n't have 'em ! I swear I '11 shoot any man that 
comes to take 'em." He wiped the perspiration from his 
forehead, and rushed round like a tiger in a cage. 

" My friend," replied Madame, " they have the law on 
their side ; and if you try to resist, you will get yourself 
into trouble without doing the girls any good. I'll tell you 
what we must do. We must disguise them, and send them 
to the North." 

" Send them to the North ! " exclaimed the Italian. 
" Why, they 'd no more know how to get there than a 
couple of kittens." 

" Then I must go with them," replied Madame ; " and 
they must be got out of this house before another day ; for 
now that we know of it, we shall be watched." 

The impetuous Italian shook her hand cordially. " You 


have a brave heart, Madame," said he. " I should rather 
march up to the cannon's mouth than tell them such news 
as this." 

The bewildered Frenchwoman felt the same dread of the 
task before her ; but she bravely said, " What must be done, 
can be done." 

After some further talk with the Signor concerning 
ways and means, she bade him good morning, and sat still 
for a moment to collect her thoughts. She then proceeded 
to the apartment assigned to the orphans. They were oc- 
cupied with a piece of embroidery she had promised to sell 
for them. She looked at the work, praised the exactness 
of the stitches and the tasteful shading of the flowers ; but 
while she pointed out the beauties of the pattern, her hand 
and voice trembled. 

Rosabella noticed it, and, looking up, said, " What 
troubles you, dear friend ? " 

" O, this is a world of trouble," replied Madame, " and 
you have had such a storm beating on your young heads, 
that I wonder you keep your senses." 

" I don't know as we could," said Rosa, " if the good 
God had not given us such a friend as you." 

" If any new trouble should come, I trust you will try to 
keep up brave hearts, my children," rejoined Madame. 

" I don't know of any new trouble that can come to us 
now," said Rosa, " unless you should be taken from us, as 
our father was. It seems as if everything else had hap- 
pened that could happen." 

" 0, there are worse things than having me die," replied 

Floracita had paused with her thread half drawn through 
her work, and was looking earnestly at the troubled coun- 


tenance of their friend. " Madame/' exclaimed she, " some- 
thing has happened. What is it ? " 

" I will tell you," said Madame, " if you will promise not 
to scream or faint, and will try to keep your wits collected, 
so as to help me think what is best to be done." 

They promised ; and, watching her countenance with an 
expression of wonder and anxiety, they waited to hear what 
she had to communicate. " My dear children," said she, 
" I have heard something that will distress you very much. 
Something neither you nor I ever suspected. Your mother 
was a slave." 

" Our mother a slave ! " exclaimed Rosa, coloring vehe- 
mently. " Whose slave could she be, when she was Papasi- 
to's wife, and he loved her so ? It is impossible, Madame." 

" Your father bought her when she was very young, my 
dear ; but I know very well that no wife was ever loved 
better than she was." 

" But she always lived with her own father till she mar- 
ried papa," said Floracita. " How then could she be his 
slave ? " 

" Her father got into trouble about money, my dear ; and 
he sold her." 

" Our Grandpapa Gonsalez sold his daughter ! " ex- 
claimed Rosa. " How incredible ! Dear friend, I wonder 
you can believe such things." 

"The world is full of strange things, my child, — stran- 
ger than anything you ever read in story-books." 

" If she was only Papasito's slave," said Flora, "I don't 
think Mamito found that any great hardship." 

" She did not, my dear. I don't suppose she ever 
thought of it ; but a great misfortune has grown out of it." 

" What is it ? " they both asked at once. 


Their friend hesitated. " Remember, you have promised 
to be calm," said she. " I presume you don't know that, 
by the laws of Louisiana, ' the child follows the condition 
of the mother.' The consequence is, that you are slaves, 
and your father's creditors claim a right to sell you." 

Rosabella turned very pale, and the hand with which she 
clutched a chair trembled violently. But she held her 
head erect, and her look and tone were very proud, as she 
exclaimed, " We become slaves ! I will die rather." 

Floracita, unable to comprehend this new misfortune, 
looked from one to the other in a bewildered way. Nature 
had written mirthfulness in the shape of her beautiful eyes, 
which now contrasted strangely with their startled and sad 

The kind-hearted Frenchwoman bustled about the room, 
moving chairs, and passing her handkerchief over boxes, 
while she tried hard to swallow the emotions that choked 
her utterance. Having conquered in the struggle, she 
turned toward them, and said, almost cheerfully : " There 's 
no need of dying, my children. Perhaps your old friend 
can help you out of this trouble. We must disguise our- 
selves as gentlemen, and start for the North this very 

Floracita looked at her sister, and said, hesitatingly: 
" Could n't you write to Mr. Fitzgerald, and ask him to 
come here ? Perhaps he could help us." 

Rosa's cheeks glowed, as she answered proudly : " Do 
you think I would ask him to come ? I would n't do such 
a thing if we were as rich and happy as we were a little 
while ago ; and certainly I would n't do it now." 

" There spoke Grandpa Gonsalez ! " said Madame. " How 
grand the old gentleman used to look, walking about so 


erect, with his gold-headed cane ! But we must go to work 
in a hurry, my children. Signor Papanti has promised to 
send the disguises, and we must select and pack such things 
as it is absolutely necessary we should carry. I am sorry 
now that Tulee is let out in the city, for we need her help. 

" She must go with us," said Flora. " I can't leave 

" We must do as we can," replied Madame. " In this 
emergency we can't do as we would. We are all white, 
and if we can get a few miles from here, we shall have no 
further trouble. But if we had a negro with us, it would 
lead to questions, perhaps. Besides, we have n't time to 
disguise her and instruct her how to perform her part. 
The Signor will be a good friend to her ; and as soon as we 
can earn some money, we will send and buy her." 

" But where can we go when we get to the North ? " 
asked Rosa. 

" I will tell you," said Floracita. " Don't you remem- 
ber that Mr. King from Boston, who came to see us a year 
ago ? His father was papa's best friend, you know ; and 
when he went away, he told us if ever we were in trouble, 
to apply to him, as if he were our brother." 

"Did he?" said Madame. "That lets in a gleam of 
light. I heard your father say he was a very good young 
man, and rich." 

"But Papasito said, some months ago, that Mr. King 
had gone to Europe with his mother, on account of her 
health," replied Rosa. " Besides, if he were at home, it 
would be very disagreeable to go to a young gentleman as 
beggars and runaways, when he was introduced to us as 

" You must put your pride in your pocket for the pres- 


ent, Senorita Gonsalez," said Madame, playfully touching 
her under the chin. " If this Mr. King is absent, I will 
write to him. They say there is a man in Boston, named 
William Lloyd Garrison, who takes great interest in slaves. 
We will tell him our story, and ask him about Mr. King. 
I did think of stopping awhile with relatives in New York. 
But it would be inconvenient for them, and they might not 
like it. This plan pleases me better. To Boston we will 
go. The Signor has gone to ask my cousin, Mr. Duroy, to 
come here and see to the house. When I have placed you 
safely, I will come back slyly to my cousin's house, a few 
miles from here, and with his help I will settle up my 
affairs. Then I will return to you, and we will all go to 
some secure place and live together. I never starved jet, 
and I don't believe I ever shall." 

The orphans clung to her, and kissed her hands, as they 
said : " How kind you are to us, dear friend ! What shall 
we ever do to repay you ? " 

" Your father and mother were generous friends to me," 
replied Madame ; " and now their children are in trouble, I 
will not forsake them." 

As the good lady was to leave her apartments for an 
indefinite time, there was much to be done and thought of, 
beside the necessary packing for the journey. The girls 
tried their best to help her, but they were continually pro- 
posing to carry something because it was a keepsake from 
Mamita or Papasito. 

" This is no time for sentiment, my children," said 
Madame. " We must not take anything we can possibly 
do without. Bless my soul, there goes the bell ! What if 
it should be one of those dreadful creditors come here to 
peep and pry ? Run to your room, my children, and bolt 
the door." 


A moment afterward, she appeared before them smiling, 
and said : " There was no occasion for being so frightened, 
but I am getting nervous with all this flurry. Come back 
again, dears. It is only Franz Blumenthal." 

" What, come again ? " asked Rosa. " Please go, Flora- 
cita, and I will come directly, as soon as I have gathered 
up these things that we must carry." 

The young German blushed like a girl as he offered two ' 
bouquets, one of heaths and orange-buds, the other of 
orange-blossoms and fragrant geraniums ; saying as he did 
so, " I have taken the liberty to bring some flowers, Miss 

"My name is Miss Royal, sir," she replied, trying to 
increase her stature to the utmost. It was an unusual 
caprice in one whose nature was so childlike and playful ; 
but the recent knowledge that she was a slave had made 
her, for the first time, jealous of her dignity. She took it 
into her head that he knew the humiliating fact, and pre- 
sumed upon it. 

But the good lad was as yet unconscious of this new 
trouble, and the unexpected rebuke greatly surprised him. 
Though her slight figure and juvenile face made her at- 
tempt at majesty somewhat comic, it was quite sufficient to 
intimidate the bashful youth ; and he answered, very meek- 
ly : " Pardon me, Miss Royal. Floracita is such a very 
pretty name, and I have always liked it so much, that I 
spoke it before I thought." 

The compliment disarmed her at once ; and with one of 

her winning smiles, and a quick little courtesy, she said : 

" Do you think it 's a pretty name ? You may call me 

Floracita, if you like it so much." 

" I think it is the prettiest name in the world," replied 


he. " I used to like to hear your mother say it. She said 
everything so sweetly ! Do you remember she used to call 
me Florimond when I was a little boy, because, she said, 
my face was so florid? Now I always write my name 
Franz Florimond Blumenthal, in memory of her." 

" I will always call you Florimond, just as Mamita did," 
said she. 

Their very juvenile tete-a-tete was interrupted by the 
entrance of Madame with Rosa, who thanked him gra- 
ciously for her portion of the flowers, and told him her 
father was so much attached to him that she should always 
think of him as a brother. 

He blushed crimson as he thanked her, and went away 
with a very warm feeling at his heart, thinking Floracita 
a prettier name than ever, and happily unconscious that he 
was parting from her. 

He had not been gone long w r hen the bell rang again, 
and the girls again hastened to hide themselves. Half an 
hour elapsed without their seeing or hearing anything of 
Madame ; and they began to be extremely anxious lest 
something unpleasant was detaining her. But she came 
at last, and said, " My children, the Signor wants to speak to 

They immediately descended to the sitting-room, where 
they found the Signor looking down and slowly striking 
the ivory head of his cane against his chin, as he was wont 
to do when buried in profound thought. He rose as they 
entered, and Rosa said, with one of her sweetest smiles, 
" What is it you wish, dear friend ? " He dropped a thin 
cloak from his shoulders and removed his hat, which 
brought a\v T ay a grizzled wig with it, and Mr. Fitzgerald 
stood smiling before them. 


The glad surprise excited by this sudden realization of a 
latent hope put maidenly reserve to flight, and Rosa 
dropped on her knees before him, exclaiming, " O Gerald, 
save us ! " 

He raised her tenderly, and, imprinting a kiss on her 
forehead, said : " Save you, my precious Rose ? To be 
sure I will. That's what I came for." 

" And me too," said Flora, clinging to him, and hiding 
her face under his arm. 

" Yes, and you too, mischievous fairy," replied he, giv- 
ing her a less ceremonious kiss than he had bestowed on 
her sister. " But we must talk fast, for there is a great 
deal to be done in a short time. I was unfortunately ab- 
sent from home, and did not receive the letter informing me 
of your good father's death so soon as I should otherwise 
have done. I arrived in the city this morning, but have 
been too busy making arrangements for your escape to 
come here any earlier. The Signor and I have done the 
work of six during the last few hours. The creditors are 
not aware of my acquaintance with you, and I have as- 
sumed this disguise to prevent them from discovering it. 
The Signor has had a talk with Tulee, and told her to keep 
very quiet, and not tell any mortal that she ever saw me at 
your father's house. A passage for you and Madame is 
engaged on board a vessel bound to Nassau, which will 
sail at midnight. Soon after I leave this house, Madame's 
cousin, Mr. Duroy, will come w r ith two boys. You and 
Madame will assume their dresses, and they will put on 
some clothes the Signor has already sent, in such boxes as 
Madame is accustomed to receive, full of materials for her 
flowers. All, excepting ourselves, will suppose you have 
gone North, according to the original plan, in order that 


they may swear to that effect if they are brought to trial. 
When I go by the front of the house whistling Oa ira, 
you will pass through the garden to the street in the rear, 
where you will find my servant with a carriage, which will 
convey you three miles, to the house of one of my friends. 
I will come there in season to accompany you on board the 

" O, how thoughtful and how kind you are ! " exclaimed 
Rosa. " But can't we contrive some way to take poor 
Tulee with us ? " 

" It would be imprudent," he replied. " The creditors 
must be allowed to sell her. She knows it, but she has 
my assurance that I will take good care of her. No harm 
shall come to Tulee, I promise you. I cannot go with you 
to Nassau ; because, if I do, the creditors may suspect my 
participation in the plot. I shall stay in New Orleans a. 
week or ten days, then return to Savannah, and take an 
early opportunity to sail for Nassau, by the way of New 
York. Meanwhile, I will try to manage matters so that 
Madame can safely return to her house. Then we will 
decide where to make a happy home for ourselves." 

The color forsook Rosa's cheeks, and her whole frame 
quivered, as she said, " I thank you, Gerald, for all this 
thoughtful care ; but I cannot go to Nassau, — indeed I 
cannot ! " 

" Cannot go ! " exclaimed he. " Where will you go, then ? " 

" Before you came, Madame had made ready to take us 
to Boston, you know. We will go there with her." 

" Rosa, do you distrust me?" said he reproachfully. 
" Do you doubt my love ? " 

"I do not distrust you," she replied; but" — she 
looked down, and blushed deeply as she added — " but I 


promised my father that I would never leave home with 
any gentleman unless I was married to him." 

" But, Rosa dear, your father did not foresee such a 
state of things as this. Everything is arranged, and there 
is no time to lose. If you knew all that I know, you 
would see the necessity of leaving this city before to-mor- 


"I cannot go with you," she repeated in tones of the 
deepest distress, — "I cannot go with you, for I promised 
my dear father the night before he died." 

He looked at her for an instant, and then, drawing her 
close to him, he said : " It shall be just as you wish, darling. 
I will bring a clergyman to the house of my friend, and 
we will be married before you sail." 

Rosa, without venturing to look up, said, in a faltering 
tone : " I cannot bear to bring degradation upon you, Ger- 
ald. It seems wrong to take advantage of your generous 
forge tfulness of yourself. When you first told me you loved 
me, you did not know I was an octoroon, and a — slave." 

" I knew your mother was a quadroon," he replied ; " and 
as for the rest, no circumstance can degrade you, my Rose 

u But if your plan should not succeed, how ashamed 
you would feel to have us seized ! " said she. 

" It will succeed, dearest. But even if it should not, 
you shall never be the property of any man but myself." 

" Property ! " she exclaimed in the proud Gonsalez tone, 
striving to withdraw herself from his embrace. 

He hastened to say : " Forgive me, Rosabella. I am so 
intoxicated with happiness that I cannot be careful of my 
words. I merely meant to express the joyful feeling that 
you would be surely mine, wholly mine." 


While they were talking thus, Floracita had glided out 
of the room to carry the tidings to Madame. The pressure 
of misfortune had been so heavy upon her, that, now it was 
lifted a little, her elastic spirit rebounded with a sudden 
spring, and she felt happier than she had ever thought of 
being since her father died. In the lightness of her heart 
she began to sing, " Petit Mane, mon hon frere ! " but she 
stopped at the first line, for she recollected how her father 
had checked her in the midst of that frisky little song ; 
and now that she knew they were octoroons, she partly 
comprehended why it had been disagreeable to him. But 
the gayety that died out of her voice passed into her steps. < 
She went hopping and jumping up to Madame, exclaiming: 
" What do you think is going to happen now ? Rosabella 
is going to be married right off. What a pity she can't be 
dressed like a bride ! She would look so handsome in 
white satin and pearls, and a great lace veil ! But here 
are the flowers Florimond hrought so opportunely. I will 
put the orange-buds in her hair, and she shall have a bou- 
quet in her hand." 

" She will look handsome in anything," rejoined Madame. 
" But tell me about it, little one." 

After receiving Flora's answers to a few brief questions, 
she stationed herself within sight of the outer door, that 
she might ask Fitzgerald for more minute directions con- 
cerning what they were to do. He very soon made his 
appearance, again disguised as the Signor. 

After a hurried consultation, Madame said : " I do hope 
nothing will happen to prevent our getting off safely. 
Rosabella has so much Spanish pride, I verily believe she 
would stab herself rather than go on the auction-stand." 

" Heavens and earth ! don't speak of that ! " exclaimed 


he, impetuously. " Do you suppose I would allow my 
beautiful rose to be trampled by swine. If we fail, I will 
buy them if it costs half my fortune. But we shall not 
fail. Don't let the girls go out of the door till you hear 
the signal." 

" No danger of that," she replied. " Their father al- 
ways kept them like wax flowers under a glass cover. 
They are as timid as hares." Before she finished the 
words, he was gone. 

Rosabella remained where he had left her, with her 
head bowed on the table. Floracita was nestling by her 
side, pouring forth her girlish congratulations. Madame 
came in, saying, in her cheerly way : " So you are going to 
be married to night ! Bless my soul, how the world whirls 
round ! " 

44 Is n't God very good to us ? " asked Rosa, looking up. 
" How noble and kind Mr. Fitzgerald is, to wish to marry 
me now that everything is so changed ! " 

" You are not changed, darling," she replied ; " except 
that I think you are a little better, and that seemed un- 
necessary. But you must be thinking, my children, 
whether everything is in readiness." 

" He told us we were not to go till evening, and it is n't 
dark yet," said Floracita. " Could n't we go into Papa- 
sito's garden one little minute, and take one sip from the 
fountain, and just one little walk round the orange- 
grove ? " 

u It would n't be safe, my dear. There ? s no telling 
who may be lurking about. Mr. Fitzgerald charged me 
not to let you go out of doors. But you can go to my 
chamber, and take a last look of the house and garden." 

They went up stairs, and stood, with their arms around 


each other, gazing at their once happy home. " How 
many times we have walked in that little grove, hand in 
hand with Mamita and Papasito ! and now they are both 
gone," sighed Rosa. 

" Ah, yes," said Flora ; u and now we are afraid to go 
there for a minute. How strangely everything has changed ! 
We don't hear Mamita's Spanish and papa's English any 
more. We have nobody to talk olla podrida to now. It 's 
all French with Madame, and all Italian with the Signor." 

" But what kind souls they are, to do so much for us ! " 
responded Rosa. "If such good friends had n't been 
raised up for us in these dreadful days, what should we 
have done ? " 

Here Madame came hurrying in to say, " Mr. Duroy and 
the boys have come. We must change dresses before the 
whistler goes by." 

':- The disguises were quickly assumed ; and the metamor- 
phosis made Rosa both blush and smile, while her volatile 
sister laughed outright. But she checked herself imme- 
diately, saying : " I am a wicked little wretch to laugh, for 
you and your friends may get into trouble by doing all this 
for us. What shall you tell them about us when you get 
back from Nassau ? " 

" I don't intend to tell them much of anything," replied 
Madame. " I may, perhaps, give them a hint that one of 
your father's old friends invited you to come to the North, 
and that I did not consider it my business to hinder you." 

" O tie, Madame ! " said Floricita ; " what a talent you 
have for arranging the truth with variations ! " 

Madame tried to return a small volley of French pleas- 
antry ; but the effort was obviously a forced one. The 
pulses of her heart were throbbing with anxiety and fear ; 


and they all began to feel suspense increasing to agony, 
when at last the whistled tones of Ca ira were heard. 

u Now don't act as if you were afraid," whispered Ma- 
dame, as she put her hand on the latch of the door. " Go 
out naturally. Remember I am my cousin, and you are 
the boys." 

They passed through the garden into the street, feeling 
as if some rough hand might at any instant seize them. 
But all was still, save the sound of voices in the distance. 
When they came in sight of the carriage, the driver began 
to hum carelessly to himself, " Who goes there ? Stranger, 
quickly tell ! " 

" A friend. Good night," — sang the disguised Madame, 
in the same well-known tune of challenge and reply. The 
carriage door was instantly opened, they entered, and the 
horses started at a brisk pace. At the house where the 
driver stopped, they were received as expected guests. 
Their disguises were quickly exchanged for dresses from 
their carpet-bags, which had been conveyed out in Mad- 
ame's boxes, and smuggled into the carriage by their invisi- 
ble protector. Flora, who was intent upon having things 
seem a little like a wedding, made a garland of orange-buds 
for her sister's hair, and threw over her braids a white gauze 
scarf. The marriage ceremony was performed at half past 
ten; and at midnight Madame was alone with her protegees 
in the cabin of the ship Victoria, dashing through the dark 
waves under a star-bright sky. 




R. FITZGERALD lingered on the wharf till the 
vessel containing his treasure was no longer visible. 
Then he returned to the carriage, and was driven to his 
hotel. Notwithstanding a day of very unusual excitement 
and fatigue, when he retired to rest he felt no inclination to 
sleep. Rosabella floated before him as he had first seen 
her, a radiant vision of beauty surrounded by flowers. He 
recalled the shy pride and maidenly modesty with which 
she had met his ardent glances and impassioned words. 
He thought of the meek and saddened expression of her 
face, as he had seen it in these last hurried interviews, and 
it seemed to him she had never appeared so lovely. He 
remembered with a shudder what Madame Guirlande had 
said about the auction-stand. He was familiar with such 
scenes, for he had seen women offered for sale, and had him- 
self bid for them in competition with rude, indecent crowds. 
It was revolting to his soul to associate the image of Rosa 
with such base surroundings ; but it seemed as if some 
fiend persisted in holding the painful picture before him. 
Pie seemed to see her graceful figure gazed at by a brutal 
crowd, while the auctioneer assured them that she was war- 
ranted to be an entirely new and perfectly sound article, — 
a moss rosebud from a private royal garden, — a diamond fit 
for a king's crown. And men, whose upturned faces were 
like greedy satyrs, were calling upon her to open her ruby 
lips and show her pearls. He turned restlessly on his pil- 
low with a muttered oath. Then he smiled as he thought 


to himself that, by saving her from such degradation, he 
had acquired complete control of her destiny. From the 
first moment he heard of her reverses, he had felt that her 
misfortunes were his triumph. Madly in love as he had 
been for more than a year, his own pride, and still more the 
dreaded scorn of proud relatives, had prevented him from 
offering marriage ; while the watchful guardianship of her 
father, and her dutiful respect to his wishes, rendered any 
less honorable alliance hopeless. But now he was her sole 
protector ; and though he had satisfied her scruples by mar- 
riage, he could hide her away and keep his own secret ; 
while she, in the fulness of her grateful love, would doubt- 
less be satisfied with any arrangement he chose to make. 
But there still remained some difficulties in his way. He 
was unwilling to leave his own luxurious home and exile 
himself in the British West Indies ; and if he should bring 
the girls to Georgia, he foresaw that disastrous consequences 
might ensue, if his participation in their elopement should 
ever be discovered, or even suspected. " It would have 
been far more convenient to have bought them outright, 
even at a high price,'! thought he ; " but after the Signor re- 
peated to me that disgusting talk of Bruteman's, there could 
be no mistake that he had his eye fixed upon them ; and it 
would have been ruinous to enter into competition with 
such a wealthy roue as he is. He values money no more 
than pebble-stones, when he is in pursuit of such game. 
But though I have removed them from his grasp for the 
present, I can feel no security if I bring them back to this 
country. I must obtain a legal ownership of them ; but 
how shall I manage it ? " Revolving many plans in his 
mind, he at last fell asleep. 

His first waking thought was to attend a meeting of the 


creditors at noon, and hear what they had to say. He 
found ten or twelve persons present, some of gentlemanly 
appearance, others hard-looking characters. Among them, 
and in singular contrast with their world-stamped faces, 
was the ingenuous countenance of Florimond Blumenthal. 
Three hundred dollars of his salary were due to him, and 
he hoped to secure some portion of the debt for the benefit 
of the orphans. A few individuals, who knew Mr. Fitz- 
gerald, said, " What, are you among the creditors ? " 

" I am not a creditor," he replied, " but I am here to 
represent the claims of Mr. Whitwell of Savannah, who, 
being unable to be present in person, requested me to lay 
his accounts before you." 

He sat listening to the tedious details of Mr. Royal's 
liabilities, and the appraisement of his property, with an 
expression of listless indifference ; often moving his fingers 
to a tune, or making the motion of whistling, without the 
rudeness of emitting a sound. 

Young Blumenthal, on the contrary, manifested the ab- 
sorbed attention of one who loved his benefactor, and was 
familiar with the details of his affairs. No notice was 
taken of him, however, for his claim was small, and he was 
too young to be a power in the commercial world. He 
modestly refrained from making any remarks ; and having 
given in his account, he rose to take his hat, when his at- 
tention was arrested by hearing Mr. Bruteman say : " We 
have not yet mentioned the most valuable property Mr. 
Royal left. I allude to his daughters." 

Blumenthal sank into his chair again, and every vestige 
of color left his usually blooming countenance ; but though 
Fitzgerald was on tenter-hooks to know whether the escape 
was discovered, he betrayed no sign of interest. 


Mr. Bruteman went on to say, " We appraised them at 
six thousand dollars." 

a Much less than they would bring at auction," observed 
Mr. Chandler, " as you would all agree, gentlemen, if you 
had seen them ; for they are fancy articles, A No. 1." 

" Is it certain the young ladies are slaves ? " inquired 
Blumenthal, with a degree of agitation that attracted at- 
tention toward him. 

" It is certain," replied Mr. Bruteman. " Their mother 
was a slave, and was never manumitted." 

" Could n't a subscription be raised, or an appeal be 
made to some court in their behalf?" asked the young 
man, with constrained calmness in his tones, while the ex- 
pression of his face betrayed his inward suffering. " They 
are elegant, accomplished young ladies, and their good 
father brought them up with the greatest indulgence." 

" Perhaps you are in love with one or both of them," 
rejoined Mr. Bruteman. "If so, you must buy them at 
auction, if you can. The law is inexorable. It requires 
that all the property of an insolvent debtor should be dis- 
posed of at public sale." 

" I am very slightly acquainted with the young ladies," 
said the agitated youth ; " but their father was my benefac- 
tor when I was a poor destitute orphan, and I would sacri- 
fice my life to save his orphans from such a dreadful calam- 
ity. I know little about the requirements of the law, 
gentlemen, but I implore you to tell me if there is n't some 
way to prevent this. If it can be done by money, I will 
serve any gentleman gratuitously any number of years he 
requires, if he will advance the necessary sum." 

" We are not here to talk sentiment, my lad," rejoined 
Mr. Bruteman. " We are here to transact business." 


" I respect this youth for the feeling he has manifested 
toward his benefactor's children," said a gentleman named 
Ammidon. " If we could enter into some mutual agree- 
ment to relinquish this portion of the property, I for one 
should be extremely glad. I should be willing to lose 
much more than my share, for the sake of bringing about 
such an arrangement. And, really, the sale of such girls 
as these are said to be is not very creditable to the coun- 
try. If any foreign travellers happen to be looking on, 
they will make great capital out of such a story. At all 
events, the Abolitionists will be sure to get it into their 
papers, and all Europe will be ringing changes upon it." 

" Let 'em ring ! " fiercely exclaimed Mr. Chandler. " I 
don't care a damn about the Abolitionists, nor Europe 
neither. I reckon we can manage our own affairs in this 
free country." 

u I should judge by your remarks that you were an Ab- 
olitionist yourself, Mr. Ammidon," said Mr. Bruteman. "I 
am surprised to hear a Southerner speak as if the opinions 
of rascally abolition-amalgamationists were of the slightest 
consequence. I consider such sentiments unworthy any 
Southern gentleman, sir." 

Mr. Ammidon flushed, and answered quickly, " I allow 
no man to call in question my being a gentleman, sir." 

" If you consider yourself insulted, you know your rem- 
edy," rejoined Mr. Bruteman. " I give you your choice 
of place and weapons." 

Mr. Fitzgerald consulted his watch, and two or three 
others followed his example. 

" I see," said Mr. Ammidon, " that gentlemen are de- 
sirous to adjourn." 

"It is time that we did so," rejoined Mr. Bruteman. 


"Officers have been sent for these slaves of Mr. Royal, 
and they are probably now lodged in jail. At our next 
meeting we will decide upon the time of sale." 

Young Blumenthal rose and attempted to go out ; but a 
blindness came over him, and he staggered against the wall. 

" I reckon that youngster 's an Abolitionist," muttered 
Mr. Chandler. " At any rate, he seems to think there 's a 
difference in niggers, — and all such ought to have notice 
to quit." 

Mr. Ammidon called for water, with which he sprinkled 
the young man's face, and two or three others assisted to 
help him into a carriage. 

Another meeting was held the next day, which Mr. 
Fitzgerald did not attend, foreseeing that it would be a 
stormy one. The result of it was shown in the arrest and 
imprisonment of Signor Papanti, and a vigilant search for 
Madame Guirlande. Her cousin, Mr. Duroy, declared 
that he had been requested to take care of her apartments 
for a few weeks, as she was obliged to go to New York on 
business ; that she took her young lady boarders with her, 
and that was all he knew. Despatches were sent in hot 
haste to the New York and Boston police, describing the 
fugitives, declaring them to be thieves, and demanding that 
they should be sent forthwith to New Orleans for trial. 
The policeman who had been employed to watch Madame's 
house, and who had been induced to turn his back for a 
while by some mysterious process best known to Mr. Fitz- 
gerald, was severely cross-examined and liberally pelted 
with oaths. In the course of the investigations, it came 
out that Florimond Blumenthal had visited the house on 
the day of the elopement, and that toward dusk he had 
been seen lingering about the premises, watching the win- 


dows. The story got abroad that he had been an accom- 
plice in helping off two valuable slaves. The consequence 
was that he received a written intimation that, if he valued 
his neck, he had better quit New Orleans within twenty- 
four hours, signed Judge Lynch. 

Mr. Fitzgerald appeared to take no share in the excite- 
ment. When he met any of the creditors, he would some- 
times ask, carelessly, " Any news yet about those slaves of 
Royal's ? " He took occasion to remark to two or three 
of them, that, Signor Papanti being an old friend of his, he 
had been to the prison to see him ; that he was convinced 
he had no idea where those girls had gone ; he was only 
their music-teacher, and such an impetuous, peppery man, 
that they never would have thought of trusting him with any 
important secret. Having thus paved the way, he came 
out with a distinct proposition at the next meeting. "I 
feel a great deal of sympathy for Signor Papanti," said he. 
" I have been acquainted with him a good while, and have 
taken lessons of him, both in music and Italian ; and I like 
the old gentleman. He is getting ill in prison, and he can 
never tell you any more than he has told you. Doubtless 
he knew that Madame intended to convey those girls to 
the North if she possibly could; but I confess I should 
have despised him if he had turned informer against the 
daughters of his friend, who had been his own favorite pu- 
pils. If you will gratify me by releasing him, I will make 
you an offer for those girls, and take my chance of ever 
finding them." 

"What sum do you propose to offer?' inquired the 

" I will pay one thousand dollars if you accede to my 


" Say two thousand, and we will take the subject under 
consideration," they replied. 

" In that case I must increase my demands," said he. 
" I have reason to suspect that my friend the Signor would 
like to make a match with Madame Guirlande. If you 
will allow her to come back to her business and remain 
undisturbed, and will make me a sale of these girls, I don't 
care if I do say two thousand." 

" He has told you w 7 here they are ! " exclaimed Mr. 
Bruteman, abruptly ; " and let me tell you, if you know 
where they are, you are not acting the part of a gentle- 

" He has not told me, I assure you, nor has he given 
me the slightest intimation. It is my firm belief that he 
does not know. But I am rather fond of gambling, and 
this is such a desperate throw, that it will be all the more 
exciting. I never tried my luck at buying slaves running, 
and I have rather a fancy for experimenting in that game 
of chance. And I confess my curiosity has been so excited 
by the wonderful accounts I have heard of those nonpareil 
girls, that I should find the pursuit of them a stimulating 
occupation. If I should not succeed, I should at least have 
the satisfaction of having done a good turn to my old 
Italian friend." 

They asked more time to reflect upon it, and to hear 
from New York and Boston. With inward maledictions 
on their slowness, he departed, resolving in his own mind 
that nothing should keep him much longer from Nassau, 
come what would. 

As he w r ent out, Mr. Chandler remarked : " It 's very 
much like him. He 's always ready to gamble in any- 


" After all, I have my suspicion that he 's got a clew to 
the mystery somehow, and that he expects to find those 
handsome wenches," said Mr. Bruteman. " I 'd give a 
good deal to baffle him." 

" It seems pretty certain that we cannot obtain any clew," 
rejoined Mr. Ammidon, " and we have already expended 
considerable in the effort. If he can be induced to offer 
two thousand five hundred, I think we had better accept it." 

After a week's absence in Savannah and its vicinity, 
making various arrangements for the reception of the sis- 
ters, Mr. Fitzgerald returned to New Orleans, and took 
an early opportunity to inform the creditors that he should 
remain a very short time. He made no allusion to his 
proposed bargain, and when they alluded to it he affected 
great indifference. 

" I should be willing to give you five hundred dollars to 
release my musical friend," said he. " But as for those 
daughters of Mr. Royal, it seems to me, upon reflection, to 
be rather a quixotic undertaking to go in pursuit of them. 
You know it 's a difficult job to catch a slave after he gets 
to the North, if he 's as black as the ace of spades ; and all 
Yanke%dom would be up in arms at any attempt to seize 
such white ladies. Of course, I could obtain them in no 
other way than by courting them and gaining their good- 

Mr. Bruteman and Mr. Chandler made some remarks 
unfit for repetition, but which were greeted with shouts of 
laughter. After much dodging and doubling on the finan- 
cial question, Fitzgerald agreed to pay two thousand five 
hundred dollars, if all his demands were complied with. 
The papers were drawn and signed with all due formality. 
He clasped them in his pocket-book, and walked off with an 
elastic step, saying, " Now for Nassau ! " 



"^HE scenery of the South was in the full glory of 
June, when Mr. Fitzgerald, Rosa, and Floracita were 
floating up the Savannah River in a boat manned by ne- 
groes, who ever and anon waked the stillness of the woods 
with snatches of wild melody. They landed on a seques- 
tered island which ocean and river held in their arms. 
Leaving the servants to take care of the luggage, they 
strolled along over a carpet of wild-flowers, through wind- 
ing bridle-paths, where glances of bright water here and 
there gleamed through the dark pines that were singing 
their sleepy chorus, with its lulling sound of the sea, and 
filling the air with their aromatic breath. Before long, 
they saw a gay-colored turban moving among the green 
foliage, and the sisters at once exclaimed, " Tulipa ! " 

" Dear Gerald, you did n't tell us Tulee was here," said 

" I wanted to give you a pleasant surprise," he replied. 

She thanked him with a glance more expressive than 
words. Tulipa, meanwhile, was waving a white towel with 
joyful energy, and when she came up to them, she half 
smothered them with hugs and kisses, exclaiming : " The 
Lord bless ye, Missy Rosy ! The Lord bless ye, Missy 
Flory ! It does Tulee's eyes good to see ye agin." She 
eagerly led the way through flowering thickets to a small 
lawn, in the midst of which was a pretty white cottage. 

It was evident at a glance that she, as well as the master 
of the establishment, had done her utmost to make the in- 


terior of the dwelling resemble their old home as much as 
possible. Rosa's piano was there, and on it were a number 
of books which their father had given them. As Floracita 
pointed to the ottomans their mother had embroidered, and 
the boxes and table she had painted, she said : " Our good 
friend the Signor sent those. He promised to buy them." 

" He could not buy them, poor man ! " answered Fitz- 
gerald, " for he was in prison at the time of the auction ; 
but he did not forget to enjoin it upon me to buy them." 

A pleasant hour was spent in joyful surprises over 
pretty novelties and cherished souvenirs. Rosa was full 
of quiet happiness, and Floracita expressed her satisfaction 
in lively little gambols. The sun was going down when 
they refreshed themselves with the repast Tulipa had pro- 
vided. Unwilling to invite the merciless mosquitoes, they 
.sat, while the gloaming settled into darkness, playing and 
singing melodies associated with other times. 

Floracita felt sorry when the hour of separation for the 
night came. Everything seemed so fearfully still, except 
the monotonous wash of the waves on the sea-shore ! And 
as far as she could see the landscape by the light of a bright 
little moon-sickle, there was nothing but a thick screen of 
trees and shrubbery. She groped her way to her sleeping- 
apartment, expecting to find Tulee there. She had been 
there, and had left a little glimmering taper behind a screen, 
which threw a fantastic shadow on the ceiling, like a face 
with a monstrous nose. It affected the excitable child like 
some kind of supernatural presence. She crept to the 
window, and through the veil of the mosquito-bar she 
dimly saw the same thick wall of greenery. Presently 
she espied a strange-looking long face peering out from its 
recesses. On their voyage home from Nassau, Gerald had 


sometimes read aloud to them from " The Midsummer 
Night's Dream." Could it be that there were such crea- 
tures in the woods as Shakespeare described ? A closet 
adjoining her room had been assigned to Tulee. She 
opened the door and said, " Tulee, are you there ? Why 
don't you come ?" There was no answer. Again she gave 
a timid look at the window. The long face moved, and 
a most unearthly sound was heard. Thoroughly fright- 
ened, she ran out, calling, " Tulee ! Tulee ! " In the dark- 
ness, she ran against her faithful attendant, and the sudden 
contact terrified her still more. 

" It 's only Tulee. What is the matter with my little 
one?" said the negress. As she spoke, the fearful sound 
was heard again. 

"O Tulee, what is" that?" she exclaimed, all of a 

" That is only Jack," she replied. 

" Who 's Jack ? " quickly asked the nervous little 

"Why, the jackass, my puppet," answered Tulee. 
" Massa Gerald bought him for you and Missy Rosy to 
ride. In hot weather there 's so many snakes about in 
the woods, he don't want ye to walk." 

" What does he make that horrid noise for ? " asked 
Flora, somewhat pacified. 

" Because he was born with music in him, like the rest 
of ye," answered Tulee, laughing. 

She assisted her darling to undress, arranged her pillows, 
and kissed her cheek just as she had kissed it ever since 
the rosy little mouth had learned to speak her name. Then 
she sat by the bedside talking over things that had hap- 
pened since they parted. 


" So you were put up at auction and sold ! " exclaimed 
Flora. " Poor Tulee ! bow dreadfully I should have felt 
to see you there ! But Gerald bought you ; and I suppose 
you like to belong to Mm." 

" Ise nothin' to complain of Massa Gerald," she an- 
swered ; 6i but I 'd like better to belong to myself." 

" So you 'd like to be free, would you ? " asked Flora. 

" To be sure I would," said Tulee. "Ye like it yerself, 
don't ye, little missy ? " 

Then, suddenly recollecting what a narrow escape her 
young lady had had from the auction-stand, she hastened 
with intuitive delicacy to change the subject. But the 
same thought had occurred to Flora ; and she fell asleep, 
thinking how Tulee's wishes could be gratified. 

"When morning floated upward out of the arms of night, 
in robe of brightest saffron, the aspect of everything was 
changed. Floracita sprang out of bed early, eager to exr 
plore the surroundings of their new abode. The little 
lawn looked very beautiful, sprinkled all over with a vari- 
ety of wild-flowers, in whose small cups dewdrops glistened, 
prismatic as opals. The shrubbery was no longer a dismal 
mass of darkness, but showed all manner of shadings of 
glossy green leaves, which the moisture of the night had 
ornamented with shimmering edges of crystal beads. She 
found the phantom of the night before browsing among 
flowers behind the cottage, and very kindly disposed to 
make her acquaintance. As he had a thistle blossom stick- 
ing out of his mouth, she forthwith named him Thistle. 
She soon returned to the house with her apron full of vines, 
and blossoms, and prettily tinted leaves. " See, Tulee," said 
she, " what a many flowers ! I 'm going to make haste and 
dress the table, before Gerald and Rosa come to breakfast." 


They took graceful shape under her nimble fingers, and, 
feeling happy in her work, she began to hum, 

i- 1 » 

" How brightly breaks the morning ! 

"Whisper low!" sang Gerald, stealing up behind her, 
and making her start by singing into her very ear ; while 
Rosa exclaimed, " What a fairy-land you have made here, 
with all these flowers, pichoncita mia" i . 

The day passed pleasantly enough, with some ambling 
along the bridle-paths on Thistle's back, some reading 
and sleeping, and a good deal of music. The next day, 
black Tom came with a barouche, and they took a drive 
round the lovely island. The cotton-fields were all abloom 
on Gerald's plantation, and his stuccoed villa, with spacious 
veranda and high porch, gleamed oat in whiteness among 
a magnificent growth of trees, and a garden gorgeous with 
efflorescence. The only drawback to the pleasure was, 
that Gerald charged them to wear thick veils, and never to 
raise them when any person was in sight. They made no 
complaint, because he told them that he should be deeply 
involved in trouble if his participation in their escape should 
be discovered ; but, happy as Rosa was in reciprocated love, 
this necessity of concealment was a skeleton ever sitting at 
her feast ; and Floracita, who had no romantic compensa- 
tion for it, chafed under the restraint. It was dusk when 
they returned to the cottage, and the thickets were alive 
with fire-flies, as if Queen Mab and all her train were out 
dancing in spangles. 

A few days after was Rosa's birthday, and Floracita 
busied herself in adorning the rooms with flowery festoons. 
After breakfast, Gerald placed a small parcel in the hand 
of each of the sisters. Rosa's contained her mother's dia- 


mond ring, and Flora's was her mother's gold watch, in 
the back of which was set a small locket-miniature of her 
father. Their gratitude took the form of tears, and the 
pleasure-loving young man, who had more taste for gayety 
than sentiment, sought to dispel it by lively music. When 
he saw the smiles coming again, he bowed playfully, and 
said : " This day is yours, dear Rosa. Whatsoever you 
wish for, you shall have, if it is attainable." 

" I do wish for one thing," she replied promptly. " Flo- 
racita has found out that Tulee would like to be free. I 
want you to gratify her wish." 

" Tulee is yours," rejoined he. " I bought her to attend 
upon you." 

" She will attend upon me all the same after she is 
free," responded Rosa ; " and we should all be hap- 

" I will do it," he replied* " But I hope you won't 
propose to make me free, for I am happier to be your 

The papers were brought a few days after, and Tulee 
felt a great deal richer, though there was no outward 
change in her condition. 

As the heat increased, mosquitoes in the woods and 
sand-flies on the beach rendered the shelter of the house 
desirable most of the time. But though Fitzgerald had 
usually spent the summer months in travelling, he seemed 
perfectly contented to sing and doze and trifle away his 
time by Rosa's side, week after week. Floracita did not 
find it entertaining to be a third person with a couple 
of lovers. She had been used to being a person of conse- 
quence in her little world ; and though they were very 
kind to her, they often forgot that she was present, and 


never seemed to miss her when she was away. She had 
led a very secluded life from her earliest childhood, but she 
had never before been so entirely out of sight of houses and 
people. During the few weeks she had passed in Nassau, 
she had learned to do shell-work with a class of young 
girls ; and it being the first time she had enjoyed such com- 
panionship, she found it peculiarly agreeable. She longed 
to hear their small talk again ; she longed to have Rosa to 
herself, as in the old times ; she longed for her father's ca- 
resses, for Madame Guirlande's brave cheerfulness, for the 
Signor's peppery outbursts, which she found very amusing ; 
and sometimes she thought how pleasant it would be to 
hear Florimond say that her name was the prettiest in the 
world. She often took out a pressed geranium blossom, 
under which was written " Souvenir de Florimond " ; and 
she thought his name was very pretty too. She sang 
Moore's Melodies a great deal; and when she warbled, 

" Sweet vale of Avoca ! how calm could I rest 
In thy bosom of shade, with the friend I love best ! " 

she sighed, and thought to herself, " Ah ! if I only had a 
friend to love best ! " She almost learned " Lalla Rookh " 
by heart ; and she pictured herself as the Persian princess 
listening to a minstrel in Oriental costume, but with a very 
German face. It was not that the child was in love, but 
her heart was untenanted ; and as memories walked through 
it, it sounded empty. 

Tulee, who was very observing where her affections 
were concerned, suspected that she was comparing her 
own situation with that of Rosa. One day, when she 
found her in dreamy revery, she patted her silky curls, 
and said : " Does she feel as if she was laid by, like a fifth 

4* F 


wheel to a coach ? Never mind ! My little one will 
have a husband herself one of these days." 

Without looking up, she answered, very pensively : " Do 
you think I ever shall, Tulee ? I don't see how I can, for 
I never see anybody." 

Tulipa took the little head between her black hands, and, 
raising the pretty face toward her, replied : " Yes, sure, 
little missy. Do ye s'pose ye had them handsome eyes 
for nothin' but to look at the moon ? But come, now, with 
me, and feed Thistle. I 'm going to give him a pailful 
of water. Thistle knows us as well as if he was a Chris- 

Jack Thistle was a great resource for Tulee in her isola- 
tion, and scarcely less so for Flora. She often fed him 
from her hand, decorated him with garlands, talked to him, 
and ambled about with him in the woods and on the sea- 
shore. The visits of black Tom also introduced a little 
variety into their life. He went back and forth from Sa- 
vannah to procure such articles as were needed at the 
cottage, and he always had a budget of gossip for Tulee. 
Tom's Chloe was an expert ironer ; and as Mr. Fitzgerald 
was not so well pleased with Tulee's performances of that 
kind, baskets of clothes were often sent to Chloe, who was 
ingenious in finding excuses for bringing them back herself. 
She was a great singer of Methodist hymns and negro 
songs, and had wonderful religious experiences to tell. 
To listen to her and Tom was the greatest treat Tulee 
had ; but as she particularly prided herself on speaking 
like white people, she often remarked that she could n't 
understand half their " lingo." Floracita soon learned it 
to perfection, and excited many a laugh by her imitations. 

Tulee once obtained Rosa's permission to ride back with 


Tom, and spend a couple of hours at his cabin near " the 
Grat Hus," as he called his master's villa. But when Mr. 
Fitzgerald heard of it, he interdicted such visits in the fu- 
ture. He wished to have as little communication as possi- 
ble between the plantation and the lonely cottage ; and if 
he had overheard some of the confidences between Chloe 
and Tulee, he probably would have been confirmed in the 
wisdom of such a prohibition. But Tom was a factotum 
that could not be dispensed with. They relied upon him 
for provisions, letters, and newspapers. 

Three or four weeks after their arrival he brought a box 
containing a long letter from Madame Guirlande, and the 
various articles she had saved for the orphans from the 
wreck of their early home. Not long afterward another 
letter came, announcing the marriage of Madame and the 
Signor. Answering these letters and preparing bridal 
presents for their old friends gave them busy days. Ger- 
ald sometimes ordered new music and new novels from 
New York, and their arrival caused great excitement. 
Floracita's natural taste for drawing had been cultivated 
by private lessons from a French lady, and she now used 
the pretty accomplishment to make likenesses of Thistle 
with and without garlands, of Tulee in her bright turban, 
and of Madame Guirlande's parrot, inscribed, " Bon jour, 
jolie Manon ! " 

One day Rosa said : " As soon as the heat abates, so that 
we can use our needles without rusting, we will do a good 
deal of embroidery, and give it to Madame. She sells such 
articles, you know ; and we can make beautiful things of 
those flosses and chenilles the good soul saved for us." 

" I like that idea," replied Flora. " I 've been wanting 
to do something to show our gratitude." 


There was wisdom as well as kindness in the plan, 
though they never thought of the wisdom. Hours were 
whiled away by the occupation, which not only kept their 
needles from rusting, but also their affections and artistic 

As the tide of time flowed on, varied only by these little 
eddies and ripples, Gerald, though always very loving with 
Rosa, became somewhat less exclusive. His attentions 
were more equally divided between the sisters. He often 
occupied himself with Floracita's work, and would pick 
out the shades of silk for her, as well as for Rosa. He 
more frequently called upon her to sing a solo, as well as 
to join in duets and trios. When the weather became 
cooler, it was a favorite recreation with him to lounge at 
his ease, while Rosa played, and Floracita's fairy figure 
floated through the evolutions of some graceful dance. 
Sometimes he would laugh, and say: "Am I not a lucky 
dog? I don't envy the Grand Bashaw his Circassian 
beauties. He 'd give his biggest diamond for such a 
dancer as Floracita; and what is his Flower of the World 
compared to my Rosamunda ? " 

Floracita, whose warm heart always met affection as 
swiftly as one drop of quicksilver runs to another, became 
almost as much attached to him as she was to Rosa. " How 
kind Gerald is to me ! " she would say to Tulee. " Papa 
used to wish we had a brother ; but I did n't care for one 
then, because he was just as good for a playmate. But 
now it is pleasant to have a brother." 

To Rosa, also, it was gratifying to have his love for her 
overflow upon what was dearest to her; and she would 
give him one of her sweetest smiles when he called her 
sister " Mignonne " or " Querida." To both of them the 


lonely island came to seem like a happy home. Floracita 
was not so wildly frolicsome as she was before those stun- 
ning blows fell upon her young life ; but the natural buoy- 
ancy of her spirits began to return. She was always 
amusing them with " quips and cranks." If she was out 
of doors, her return to the house would be signalized by 
imitations of all sorts of birds or musical instruments ; and 
often, when Gerald invited her to " trip it on the light, fan- 
tastic toe," she would entertain him with one of the ne- 
groes' clumsy, shuffling dances. Her sentimental songs fell 
into disuse, and were replaced by livelier tunes. Instead 
of longing to rest in the " sweet vale of Avoca," she was 
heard musically chasing " Figaro here ! Figaro there ! 
Figaro everywhere ! " 

Seven months passed without other material changes 
than the changing seasons. When the flowers faded, and 
the leafless cypress-trees were hung with their pretty pen- 
dulous seed-vessels, Gerald began to make longer visits to 
Savannah. He was, however, rarely gone more than a 
week ; and, though Rosa's songs grew plaintive in his ab- 
sence, her spirits rose at once when he came to tell how 
homesick he had been. As for Floracita, she felt compen- 
sated for the increased stillness by the privilege of having 
Rosa all to herself. 

One day in January, when he had been gone from home 
several days, she invited Rosa to a walk, and, finding her 
desirous to finish a letter to Madame Guirlande, she threw 
on her straw hat, and went out half dancing, as she was 
wont to do. The fresh air was exhilarating, the birds were 
singing, and the woods were already beautified with every 
shade of glossy green, enlivened by vivid buds and leaflets 
of reddish brown. She gathered here and there a pretty 


sprig, sometimes placing them in her hair, sometimes in 
her little black silk apron, coquettishly decorated with cher- 
ry-colored ribbons. She stopped before a luxuriant wild 
myrtle, pulling at the branches, while she sang, 

" When the little hollow drum beats to bed, 
"When the little fifer hangs his head, 
When is mute the Moorish flute — " 

Her song was suddenly interrupted by a clasp round the 
waist, and a warm kiss on the lips. 

" O Gerald, you 've come back ! " she exclaimed. " How 
glad Rosa will be ! " 

"And nobody else will be glad, I suppose ? " rejoined 
he. " Won't you give me back my kiss, when I 've been 
gone a whole week ? " 

" Certainly, mon bon frere" she replied ; and as he in- 
clined his face toward her, she imprinted a slight kiss on 
his cheek. 

" That 's not giving me back my kiss," said he. " I 
kissed your mouth, and you must kiss mine." 

" I will if you wish it," she replied, suiting the action to 
the word. "But you need n't hold me so tight," she 
added, as she tried to extricate herself. Finding he did 
not release her, she looked up wonderingly in his face, then 
lowered her eyes, blushing crimson. No one had ever 
looked at her so before. 

" Come, don't be coy, ma petite" said he. 

She slipped from him with sudden agility, and said some- 
what sharply : " Gerald, I don't want to be always called 
petite ; and I don't want to be treated as if I were a child. 
I am no longer a child. I am fifteen. I am a young lady." 

" So you are, and a very charming one," rejoined he, 
giving her a playful tap on the cheek as he spoke. 


" I am going to tell Rosa you have come/' said she ; and 
she started on the run. 

When they were all together in the cottage she tried not 
to seem constrained; but she succeeded so ill that Rosa 
would have noticed it if she had not been so absorbed in 
her own happiness. Gerald was all affection to her, and 
full of playful raillery with Flora, — which, however, failed 
to animate her as usual. 

From that time a change came over the little maiden, 
and increased as the days passed on. She spent much of 
her time in her own room ; and when Rosa inquired why 
she deserted them so, she excused herself by saying she 
wanted to do a great deal of shell-work for Madame Guir- 
lande, and that she needed so many boxes they would be 
in the way in the sitting-room. Her passion for that work 
grew wonderfully, and might be accounted for by the fas- 
cination of perfect success ; for her coronets and garlands 
and bouquets and baskets were arranged with so much 
lightness and elegance, and the different-colored shells were 
so tastefully combined, that they looked less like manufac- 
tured articles than like flowers that grew in the gardens of 
the Nereids. 

Tulee wondered why her vivacious little pet had all of a 
sudden become so sedentary in her habits, — why she never 
took her customary rambles except when Mr. Fitzgerald 
was gone, and even then never without her sister. The 
conjecture she formed was not very far amiss, for Chloe's 
gossip had made her better acquainted with the character 
of her master than were the other inmates of the cottage ; 
but the extraordinary industry was a mystery to her. One 
evening, when she found Floracita alone in her room at 
dusk, leaning her head on her hand and gazing out of the 


window dreamily, she put her hand on the silky head and 
said, "Is my little one homesick?" 

" I have no home to be sick for," she replied, sadly. 

" Is she lovesick then ? " 

" I have no lover," she replied, in the same desponding 

" What is it, then, my pet ? Tell Tulee." 

" I wish I could go to Madame Guirlande," responded 
Flora. " She was so kind to us in our first troubles." 

" It would do you good to make her a visit," said Tulee, 
" and I should think you might manage to do it somehow." 

" No. Gerald said, a good while ago, that it would be 
dangerous for us ever to go to New Orleans." 

" Does he expect to keep you here always ? " asked Tulee. 
" He might just as well keep you in a prison, little bird." 

" 0, what 's the use of talking, Tulee ! " exclaimed she, 
impatiently. " I have no friends to go to, and I must stay 
here." But, reproaching herself for rejecting the sympa- 
thy so tenderly offered, she rose and kissed the black cheek 
as she added, " Good Tulee ! kind Tulee ! I am sl little 
homesick ; but I shall feel better in the morning." 

The next afternoon Gerald and Rosa invited her to join 
them in a drive round the island. She declined, saying 
the box that was soon to be sent to Madame was not quite 
full, and she wanted to finish some more articles to put in 
it. But she felt a longing for the fresh air, and the intense 
blue glory of the sky made the house seem prison-like. As 
soon as they were gone, she took down her straw hat and 
passed out, swinging it by the strings. She stopped on the 
lawn to gather some flame-colored buds from a Pyrus Ja- 
ponica, and, fastening them in the ribbons as she went, she 
walked toward her old familiar haunts in the woods. 


It was early in February, but the warm sunshine brought 
out a delicious aroma from the firs, and golden garlands of* 
the wild jasmine, fragrant as heliotrope, were winding 
round the evergreen thickets, and swinging in flowery fes- 
toons from the trees. Melancholy as she felt when she 
started from the cottage, her elastic nature was incapable 
of resisting the glory of the sky, the beauty of the earth, 
the music of the birds, and the invigorating breath of the 
ocean, intensified as they all were by a joyful sense of 
security and freedom, growing out of the constraint that 
had lately been put upon her movements. She , tripped 
along faster, carolling as she went an old-fashioned song 
that her father used to be often humming : — 

" Begone, dull care ! 
I prithee begone from me ! 

Begone, dull care ! 
Thou and I shall never agree ! " 

The walk changed to hopping and dancing, as she warbled 
various snatches from ballets and operas, settling at last 
upon the quaint little melody, " Once on a time there was 
a king," and running it through successive variations. 

A very gentle and refined voice, from behind a clump 
of evergreens, said, " Is this Cinderella coming from the 
ball ? " 

She looked up with quick surprise, and recognized a 
lady she had several times seen in Nassau. 

" And it is really you, Senorita Gonsalez ! " said the lady. 
" I thought I knew your voice. But I little dreamed of 
meeting you here. I have thought of you many times 
since I parted from you at Madame Conquilla's store of 
shell-work. I am delighted to see you again." 

" And I am glad to see you again, Mrs. Delano," replied 


Flora ; " and I am very much pleased that you remember 


" How could I help remembering you ? " asked the lady. 
" You were a favorite with me from the first time I saw 
you, and I should like very much to renew our acquaint- 
ance. Where do you live, my dear?" 

Covered with crimson confusion, Flora stammered out : 
" I don't live anywhere, I 'm only staying here. Perhaps I 
shall meet you again in the woods or on the beach. I hope 
I shall." 

" Excuse me," said the lady. " I have no wish to in- 
trude upon your privacy. But if you would like to call 
upon me at Mr. Welby's plantation, where I shall be for 
three or four weeks, I shall always be glad to receive you." 

"Thank you," replied Flora, still struggling with embar- 
rassment. " I should like to come very much, but I don't 
have a great deal of time for visiting." 

" It 's not common to have such a pressure of cares and 
duties at your age," responded the lady, smiling. " My 
carriage is waiting on the beach. Trusting you will find 
a few minutes to spare for me, I will not say adieu, but 

an revoir" 

As she turned away, she thought to herself: " What a 
fascinating child ! What a charmingly unsophisticated way 
she took to tell me she would rather not have me call on 
her ! I observed there seemed to be some mystery about 
her when she was in Nassau. What can it be ? Nothing 
wrong, I hope." 

Floracita descended to the beach and gazed after the 
carriage as long as she could see it. Her thoughts were 
so occupied with this unexpected interview, that she took 
no notice of the golden drops which the declining sun was 



showering on an endless procession of pearl-crested waves ; 
nor did she cast one of her customary loving glances at the 
western sky, where masses of violet clouds, with edges of 
resplendent gold, enclosed lakes of translucent beryl, in 
which little rose-colored islands were floating. She re- 
traced her steps to the woods, almost crying. " How 
strange my answers must appear to her ! " murmured she. 
" How I do wish I could go about openly, like other peo- 
ple ! I am so tired of all this concealment ! " She nei- 
ther jumped, nor danced, nor sung, on her way home- 
ward. She seemed to be revolving something in her mind 
very busily. 

After tea, as she and Rosa were sitting alone in the twi- 
light, her sister, observing that she was unusually silent, 
said, " What are you thinking of, Mignonne ? " 

" I am thinking of the time we passed in Nassau," re- 
plied she, " and of that Yankee lady who seemed to take 
such a fancy to me when she came to Madame Conquilla's 
to look at the shell-work. 

"I remember your talking about her," rejoined Rosa. 
" You thought her beautiful." 

"Yes," said Floracita, "and it was a peculiar sort of 
beauty. She was n't the least like you or Mamita. Every- 
thing abflut her was violet. Her large gray eyes some- 
times had a violet light in them. Her hair was not exactly 
flaxen, it looked like ashes of violets. She always wore 
fragrant violets. Her ribbons and dresses were of some 
shade of violet ; and her breastpin was an amethyst set with 
pearls. Something in her ways, too, made me think of a 
violet. I think she knew it, and that was the reason she 
always wore that color. How delicate she was ! She must 
have been very beautiful when she was young." 


" You used to call her the Java sparrow," said Rosa. 

" Yes, she made me think of my little Java sparrow, 
with pale fawn-colored feathers, and little gleams of violet 
on the neck," responded Flora. 

" That lady seems to have made a great impression on 
your imagination," said Rosa ; and Floracita explained 
that it was because she had never seen anything like her. 
She did not mention that she had seen that lady on the 
island. The open-hearted child was learning to be reti- 

A few minutes afterward, Rosa exclaimed, " There 's 
Gerald coming ! " Her sister watched her as she ran out 
to meet him, and sighed, " Poor Rosa ! " 



A WEEK later, when Gerald had gone to Savannah 
and Rosa was taking her daily siesta, Floracita filled 
Thistle's panniers with several little pasteboard boxes, and, 
without saying anything to Tulee, mounted and rode off in 
a direction she had never taken, except in the barouche. 
She was in search of the Welby plantation. 

Mrs. Delano, who was busy with her crochet-needle 
near the open window, was surprised to see a light little fig- 
ure seated on a donkey riding up the avenue. As soon as 
Floracita dismounted, she recognized her, and descended 
the steps of the piazza to welcome her. 

" So you have found the Welby plantation," said she t 
" I thought you would n't have much difficulty, for there 
are only two plantations on the island, this and Mr. Fitz- 
gerald's. I don't know that there are any other dwellings 
except the huts of the negroes." She spoke the last rather 
in a tone of inquiry ; but Flora merely answered that she 
had once passed the Welby plantation in a barouche. 

As the lady led the way into the parlor, she said, "What 
is that you have in your hand, my dear ? " 

" You used to admire Madame Conquilla's shell-work," 
replied Flora, " and I have brought you some of mine, to 
see whether you think I succeed tolerably in my imita- 
tions." As she spoke, she took out a small basket and 
poised it on her finger. 

" Why, that is perfectly beautiful ! " said Mrs. Delano. 
" I don't know how you could contrive to give it such an 


air of lightness and grace. I used to think shell-work 
heavy, and rather vulgar, till I saw those beautiful produc- 
tions at Nassau. But you excel your teacher, my dear 
Miss Gonsalez. I should think. the sea-fairies made this." 

Four or five other articles were brought forth from the 
boxes and examined with similar commendation. Then 
they fell into a pleasant chat about their reminiscences of 
Nassau ; and diverged from that to speak of the loveliness 
of their lonely little island, and the increasing beauty of the 
season. After a while, Flora looked at her watch, and 
said, " I must not stay long, for I did n't tell anybody I 
was going away." 

Mrs. Delano, who caught a glimpse of the medallion in- 
serted in the back, said : " That is a peculiar little watch. 
Have you the hair of some friend set in it ? " 

" No," replied Flora. " It is the likeness of my father." 
She slipped the slight chain from her neck, and placed the 
watch in the lady's hand. Her face flushed as she looked 
at it, but the habitual paleness soon returned. 

" You were introduced to me as a Spanish young lady," 
said she, " but this face is not Spanish. What was your 
father's name ? " 

" Mr. Alfred Royal of New Orleans," answered Flora. 

" But your name is Gonsalez," said she. 

Flora blushed crimson with the consciousness of having 
betrayed the incognito assumed at Nassau. " Gonsalez 
was my mother's name," she replied, gazing on the floor 
while she spoke. 

Mrs. Delano looked at her for an instant, then, drawing 
her gently toward her, she pressed her to her side, and 
said with a sigh, " Ah, Flora, I wish you were my 


" 0, liow I wish I was ! " exclaimed the young girl, 
looking up with a sudden glow ; but a shadow immedi- 
ately clouded her expressive face, as she added, " But you 
would n 't want me for a daughter, if you knew everything 
about me." 

The lady was obviously troubled. " You seem to be sur- 
rounded by mysteries, my little friend," responded she. " I 
will not ask you for any confidence you are unwilling to 
bestow. But I am a good deal older than you, and I know 
the world better than you do. If anything troubles you, or 
if you are doing anything wrong, perhaps if you were to 
tell me, I could help you out of it." 

" O, no, I 'm not doing anything wrong," replied Flora- 
cita, eagerly. " I never did anything wrong in my life." 
Seeing a slight smile hovering about the lady's lips, she 
made haste to add: "I didn't mean exactly that. I mean 
I never did anything very wrong. I'm cross sometimes, 
and I have told some Jibititas ; but then I could n 't seem 
to help it, things were in such a tangle. It comes more 
natural to me to tell the truth." 

" That I can readily believe," rejoined Mrs. Delano. 
" But I am not trying to entrap your ingenuousness into a 
betrayal of your secrets. Only remember one thing ; if 
you ever do want to open your heart to any one, remember 
that I am your true friend, and that you can trust me." 

" O, thank you ! thank you ! " exclaimed Flora, seizing 
her hand and kissing it fervently. 

" But tell me one thing, my little friend," continued 
Mrs. Delano. il Is there anything I can do for you now ? " 

" I came to ask you to do something for me," replied 
Flora ; " but you have been so kind to me, that it has made 
me almost forget my errand. I have very particular rea- 


sons for wanting to earn some money. You used to ad- 
mire the shell-work in Nassau so much, that I thought, if 
you liked mine, you might be willing to buy it, and that 
perhaps you might have friends who would buy some. I 
have tried every way to think how I could manage to sell 
my work." 

" I will gladly buy all you have," rejoined the lady, 
" and I should like to have you make me some more ; 
especially of these garlands of rice-shells, trembling so 
lightly on almost invisible silver wire." 

" I will make some immediately," replied Flora. " But 
I must go, dear Mrs. Delano. I wish I could stay longer, 
but I cannot." 

" When will you come again ? " asked the lady. 
" I can't tell," responded Flora, " for I have to manage 
to come here." 

" That seems strange," said Mrs. Delano. 
" I know it seems strange," answered the young girl, 
with a kind of despairing impatience in her tone. " But 
please don't ask me, for everything seems to come right out 
to you ; and I don't know what I ought to say, indeed I don't." 
" I want you to come again as soon as you can," said 
Mrs. Delano, slipping a gold eagle into her hand. " And 
now go, my dear, before you tell me more than you wish 

" Not more than I wish," rejoined Floracita ; " but more 
than I ought. I wish to tell you everything." 

In a childish way she put up her lips for a kiss, and the 
lady drew her to her heart and caressed her tenderly. 

When Flora had descended the steps of the piazza, she 
turned and looked up. Mrs. Delano was leaning against one 
of the pillars, watching her departure. Vines of gossamer 


lightness were waving round her, and her pearly complex- 
ion and violet-tinted dress looked lovely among those aerial 
arabesques of delicate green. The picture impressed Flora 
all the more because it was such a contrast to the warm 
and gorgeous styles of beauty to which she had been ac- 
customed. She smiled and kissed her hand in token of 
farewell ; the lady returned the salutation, but she thought 
the expression of her face was sad, and the fear that this 
new friend distrusted her on account of unexplained mys- 
teries haunted her on her way homeward. 

Mrs. Delano looked after her till she and her donkey 
disappeared among the trees in the distance. " What a 
strange mystery is this ! " murmured she. " Alfred Royal's 
child, and yet she bears her mother's name. And why does 
she conceal from me where she lives ? Surely, she cannot 
be consciously doing anything wrong, for I never saw such 
perfect artlessness of look and manner." The problem oc- 
cupied her thoughts for days after, without her arriving at 
any satisfactory conjecture. 

Flora, on her part, was troubled concerning the distrust 
which she felt must be excited by her mysterious position, 
and she was continually revolving plans to clear herself from 
suspicion in the eyes of her new friend. It would have 
been an inexpressible consolation if she could have told 
her troubles to her elder sister, from whom she had never 
concealed anything till within the last few weeks. But, 
alas! by the fault of another, a barrier had arisen between 
them, which proved an obstruction at every turn of their daily 
intercourse ; for while she had been compelled to despise 
and dislike Gerald, Rosa was always eulogizing his noble 
and loving nature, and was extremely particular to have his 
slightest wishes obeyed. Apart from any secret reasons for 

5 G 


wishing to obtain money, Floracita was well aware that 
it would not do to confess her visit to Mrs. Delano; for 
Gerald had not only forbidden their making any acquaint- 
ances, but he had also charged them not to ride or walk in 
the direction of either of the plantations unless he was with 

Day after day, as Flora sat at work upon the garlands 
she had promised, she was on the watch to elude his vigi- 
lance ; but more than a week passed without her finding 
any safe Opportunity. At last Gerald proposed to gratify 
Rosa's often-expressed wish, by taking a sail to one of the 
neighboring islands. They intended to make a picnic of 
it, and return by moonlight. Rosa was full of pleasant an- 
ticipations, which, however, were greatly damped when her 
sister expressed a decided preference for staying at home. 
Rosa entreated, and Gerald became angry, but she persist- 
ed in her refusal. She said she wanted to use up all her 
shells, and all her flosses and chenilles. Gerald swore 
that he hated the sight of them, and that he would throw 
them all into the sea if she went on wearing her beautiful 
eyes out over them. Without looking up from her work, 
she coolly answered, "Why need you concern yourself about 
my eyes, when you have a wife with such beautiful eyes ? " 

Black Tom and Chloe and the boat were in waiting, and 
after a flurried scene they departed reluctantly without her. 

" I never saw any one so changed as she is," said Rosa. 
" She used to be so fond of excursions, and now she wants 
to work from morning till night." 

" She ? s a perverse, self-willed, capricious little puss. 
She 's been too much indulged. She needs to be brought 
under discipline," said Gerald, angrily whipping off a blos- 
som with his rattan as they walked toward the boat. 


As soon as they were fairly off, Flora started on a sec- 
ond visit to the Welby plantation. Tulee noticed all this 
in silence, and shook her head, as if thoughts were brooding 
there unsafe for utterance. 

Mrs. Delano was bending over her writing-desk finish- 
ing a letter, when she perceived a wave of fragrance, and, 
looking up, she saw Flora on the threshold of the open 
door, with her arms full of flowers. 

"Excuse me for interrupting you," said she, dropping 
one of her little quick courtesies, which seemed half frolic, 
half politeness. " The woods are charming to-day. The 
trees are hung with curtains of jasmine, embroidered all 
over with golden flowers. You love perfumes so well, I 
could n't help stopping by the way to load Thistle with an 
armful of them." 

" Thank you, dear," replied Mrs. Delano. " I rode out 
yesterday afternoon, and I thought I had never seen any- 
thing so beautiful as the flowery woods and the gorgeous 
sunset. After being accustomed to the splendor of these 
Southern skies, the Northern atmosphere will seem cold 
and dull." 

" Shall you go to the North soon ? " inquired Flora, 

" I shall leave here in ten or twelve days," she replied ; 
" but I may wait a short time in Savannah, till March has 
gone ; for that is a blustering, disagreeable month in New 
England, though it brings you roses and perfume. I 
came to Savannah to spend the winter with my friends, 
Mr. and Mrs. Welby ; but I have always taken a great 
fancy to this island, and when they were suddenly called 
away to Arkansas by the illness of a son, I asked their 
permission to come here for a few weeks and watch the 


beautiful opening of the spring. I find myself much in- 
clined to Solitude since I lost a darling daughter, who died 
two years ago. If she had lived, she would have been 
about your age." 

" I am so sorry you are going away," said Flora. " It 
seems as if I had always known you. I don't know what 
I shall do without you. But when you go back among 
your friends, I suppose you will forget all about poor little 

" No, my dear little friend, I shall never forget you," 
she replied ; " and when I come again, I hope I shall find 
you here." 

" I felt troubled when I went away the other day," said 
Flora. " I thought you seemed to look sadly after me, and 
I was afraid you thought I had done something wicked, 
because I said you would n't wish I were your daughter if 
you knew everything about me. So I have come to tell 
you my secrets^ as far as I can without betraying other 
people's. I am afraid you won't care anything more about 
me after I have told you ; but I can't help it if you don't. 
Even that would be better than to have you suspect me of 
being bad." 

Mrs. Delano drew an ottoman toward her, and said, 
" Come and sit here, dear, and tell me all about it, the 
same as if I were your mother." 

Floracita complied ; and resting one elbow on her knee, 
and leaning her cheek upon the hand, she looked up tim- 
idly and wistfully into the friendly face that was smiling 
serenely over her. After a moment's pause, she said 
abruptly: "I don't know how to begin, so I won't begin 
at all, but tell it right out. You see, dear Mrs. Delano, I 
am a colored girl." 


The lady's smile came nearer to a laugh than was usual 
with her. She touched the pretty dimpled cheek with her 
jewelled linger, as she replied : " O, you mischievous little 
kitten ! I thought you were really going to tell me some- 
thing about your troubles. But I see you are hoaxing me. 
I remember when you were at Madame Conquilla's you al- 
ways seemed to be full of fun, and the young ladies there 
said you were a great rogue." 

" But this is not fun ; indeed it is not," rejoined Flora. 
" I am a colored girl." 

She spoke so earnestly that the lady began to doubt the 
evidence of her own eyes. " But you told me that Mr. 
Alfred Royal was your father," said she. 

" So he was my father," replied Flora ; " and the kindest 
father that ever was. Rosa and I were brought up like 
little princesses, and we never knew that we were colored. 
My mother was the daughter of a rich Spanish gentleman 
named Gonsalez. She was educated in Paris, and was 
elegant and accomplished. She was handsomer than Rosa ; 
and if you were to see Rosa, you would say nobody could 
be handsomer than she is. She was good, too. My father 
was always saying she was the dearest and best wife in the 
world. You don't know how he mourned when she died. 
He could n't bear to have anything moved that she had 
touched. But cher papa died very suddenly; and first 
they told us that we were very poor, and must earn our 
living ; and then they told us that our mother was a slave, 
and so, according to law, we were slaves too. They would 
have sold us at auction, if a gentleman who knew us when 
papa was alive had n't smuggled us away privately to 
Nassau. He had been very much in love with Rosa for 
a good while ; and he married her, and I live with them. 


But he keeps us very much hidden ; because, he says, he 
should get into lawsuits and duels and all sorts of troubles 
with papa's creditors if they should find out that he helped 
us off. And that was the reason I was called Senorita Gon- 
salez in Nassau, though my real name is Flora Royal." 

She went on to recount the kindness of Madame Guir- 
lande, and the exciting particulars of their escape ; to all of 
which Mrs. Delano listened with absorbed attention. As 
they sat thus, they made a beautiful picture. The lady, 
mature in years, but scarcely showing the touch of time, 
was almost as fair as an Albiness, with serene lips, and a 
soft moonlight expression in her eyes. Every attitude and 
every motion indicated quietude and refinement. The 
young girl, on the contrary, even when reclining, seemed 
like impetuosity in repose for a moment, but just ready to 
spring. Her large dark eyes laughed and flashed and 
wept by turns, and her warmly tinted face glowed like the 
sunlight, in its setting of glossy black hair. The lady 
looked down upon her with undisguised admiration while 
she recounted their adventures in lively dramatic style, 
throwing in imitations of the whistling of Ga ira, and the 
tones of the coachman as he sang, " Who goes there ? " 

" But you have not told me," said Mrs. Delano, " who 
the gentleman was that married your sister. Ah, I see 
you hesitate. No matter. Only tell me one thing, — is he 
kind to you ? " 

Flora turned red and pale, and red again. 

" Let that pass, too," said the lady. " I asked because 
I wished to know if I could help you in any way. I see 
you have brought some more boxes of shell-work, and by 
and by we will examine them. But first I want to tell 
you that I also have a secret, and I will confide it to you 


that you may feel assured I shall love you always. Flora, 
dear, when your father and I were young, we were in love 
with each other, and I promised to be his wife." 

" So you might have been my Mamita ! " exclaimed Flo- 
racita, impetuously. 

" No, not your Mamita, dear," replied Mrs. Delano, smil- 
ing. " You call me the Java sparrow, and Java sparrows 
never hatch gay little humming-birds or tuneful mocking- 
birds. I might tell you a long story about myself, dear ; 
but the sun is declining, and you ought not to be out after 
dusk. My father was angry about our love, because Alfred 
was then only a clerk with a small salary. They carried 
me off to Europe, and for two years I could hear nothing 
from Alfred. Then they told me he was married ; and after 
a while they persuaded me to marry Mr. Delano. I ought 
not to have married him, because my heart was not in it. 
He died and left me with a large fortune and the little 
daughter I told you of. I have felt very much alone since 
my darling was taken from me. That void in my heart 
renders young girls very interesting to me. Your looks 
and ways attracted me when I first met you; and when 
you told me Alfred Royal was your father, I longed to 
clasp you to my heart. And now you know, my dear 
child, that you have a friend ever ready to listen to any 
troubles you may choose to confide, and desirous to remove 
them if she can." 

She rose to open the boxes of shell- w^ork; but Flora 
sprung up, and threw herself into her arms, saying, " My 
Papasito sent you to me, — I know he did." 

After a few moments spent in silent emotion, Mrs. 
Delano again spoke of the approaching twilight, and with 
mutual caresses they bade each other adieu. 


Four or five days later, Floracita made her appearance 
at the Welby plantation in a state of great excitement. 
She was in a nervous tremor, and her eyelids were swollen 
as if with much weeping. Mrs. Delano hastened to enfold 
her in her arms, saying : " What is it, my child ? Tell 
your new Mamita what it is that troubles you so." 

" O, may I call you Mamita ? " asked Flora, looking up 
with an expression of grateful love that warmed all the 
fibres of her friend's heart. " O, I do so need a Mamita I 
I am very wretched ; and if you don't help me, I don't 
know what I shall do ! " 

" Certainly, I will help you, if possible, when you have 
told me your trouble," replied Mrs. Delano. 

" Yes, I will tell," said Flora, sighing. " Mr. Fitzgerald 
is the gentleman who married my sister ; but we don't live 
at his plantation. We live in a small cottage hidden away 
in the woods. You never saw anybody so much in love 
as he was with Rosa. When we first came here, he was 
never willing to have her out of his sight a moment. And 
Rosa loves him so ! But for these eight or ten weeks past 
he has been making love to me ; though he is just as affec- 
tionate as ever with Rosa. When she is playing to him, 
and I am singing beside her, he keeps throwing kisses to 
me behind her back. It makes me feel so ashamed that I 
can't look my sister in the face. I have tried to keep out 
of his way. When I am in the house I stick to Rosa like 
a burr ; and I have given up riding or walking, except 
when he is away. But there 's no telling when he is away. 
Pie went away yesterday, and said he was going to Savan- 
nah to be gone a week ; but this morning, when I went 
into the woods behind the cottage to feed Thistle, he was 
lurking there. He seized me, and held his hand over my 


mouth, and said I should hear him. Then he told me that 
Rosa and I were his slaves ; that he bought us of papa's 
creditors, and could sell us any day. And he says he will 
carry me off to Savannah and sell me if I don't treat him 
better. He would not let me go till I promised to meet 
him in Cypress Grove at dusk to-night. I have been try- 
ing to earn money to go to Madame Guirlande, and get 
her to send me somewhere where I could give dancing- 
lessons, or singing-lessons, without being in danger of being 
taken up for a slave. But I don't know how to get to 
New Orleans alone ; and if I am his slave, I am afraid he 
will come there with officers to take me. So, dear new 
Mamita, I have come to you, to see if you can't help me to 
get some money and go somewhere." 

Mrs. Delano pressed her gently to her heart, and re- 
sponded in tones of tenderest pity : " Get some money and 
go somewhere, you poor child ! Do you think I shall let 
dear Alfred's little daughter go wandering alone about the 
world? No, darling, you shall live with me, and be my 

"And don't you care about my being colored and a 
slave ? " asked Floracita, humbly. 

" Let us never speak of that," replied her friend. " The 
whole transaction is so odious and wicked that I can't 
bear to think of it." 

" I do feel so grateful to you, my dear ne.w Mamita, that 
I don't know what to say. But it tears my heart in two 
to leave Rosa. We have never been separated for a day 
since I was born. And she is so good, and she loves me 
so ! And Tulee, too. I did n't dare to try to speak to 
her. I knew I should break down. All the way coming 
here I was frightened for fear Gerald would overtake me 



and carry me off. And I cried so, thinking about Rosa 
and Tulee, not knowing when I should see them again, 
that I could n't see ; and if Thistle had n't known the way 
himself, I shouldn't have got here. Poor Thistle! It 
seemed as if my heart would break when I threw the 
bridle on his neck and left him to go back alone ; I did n't 
dare to hug him but once, I was so afraid. O, I am so 
glad that you will let me stay here ! " 

" I have been thinking it will not be prudent for you to 
stay here, my child," replied Mrs. Delano. " Search will 
be made for you in the morning, and you had better be out 
of the way before that. There are some dresses belonging 
to Mrs. Welby's daughter in a closet up stairs. I will 
borrow one of them for you to wear. The boat from Beau- 
fort to Savannah will stop here in an hour to take some 
freight. We will go to Savannah. My colored laundress 
there has a chamber above her wash-room where you will 
be better concealed than in more genteel lodgings. I will 
come back here to arrange things, and in a few days I will 
return to you and take you to my Northern home." 

The necessary arrangements were soon made ; and when 
Flora was transformed into Miss Welby, she smiled very 
faintly as she remarked, " How queer it seems to be always 
running away." 

" This is the last time, my child," replied Mrs. Delano. 
" I will keep my little bird carefully under my wings." 

When Flora was in the boat, hand in hand with her new 
friend, and no one visible whom she had ever seen before, 
her excitement began to subside, but sadness increased. 
In her terror the poor child had scarcely thought of any- 
thing except the necessity of escaping somewhere. But 
when she saw her island home receding from her, she be- 
gan to realize the importance of the step she was taking. 


She fixed her gaze on that part where the lonely cottage 
was embowered, and she had a longing to see even a little 
whiff of smoke from Tulee's kitchen. But there was no 
sign of life save a large turkey-buzzard, like a black vul- 
ture, sailing gracefully over the tree-tops. The beloved 
sister, the faithful servant, the brother from whom she had 
once hoped so much, the patient animal that had borne her 
through so many pleasant paths, the flowery woods, and 
the resounding sea, had all vanished from her as suddenly 
as did her father and the bright home of her childhood. 

The scenes through which they were passing were beau- 
tiful as Paradise, and all nature seemed alive and jubilant. 
The white blossoms of wild-plum-trees twinkled among 
dark evergreens, a vegetable imitation of starlight. Wide- 
spreading oaks and superb magnolias were lighted up with 
sudden flashes of color, as scarlet grosbeaks flitted from 
tree to tree. Sparrows were chirping, doves cooing, and 
mocking-birds whistling, now running up the scale, then 
down the scale, with an infinity of variations between. 
The outbursts of the birds were the same as in seasons that 
were gone, but the listener was changed. Rarely before 
had her quick musical ear failed to notice how they would 
repeat the same note with greater or less emphasis, then 
flat it, then sharp it, varying their performances with all 
manner of unexpected changes. But now she was merely 
vaguely conscious of familiar sounds, which brought before 
her that last merry day in her father's house, when Rosa- 
bella laughed so much to hear her puzzle the birds with 
her musical vagaries. Memory held up her magic mirror, 
in which she saw pictured processions of the vanished 
years. Thus the lonely child, with her loving, lingering 
looks upon the past, was floated toward an unknown future 
with the new friend a kind Providence had sent her. 



OSA was surprised at the long absence of her sister ; 
and when the sun showed only a narrow golden edge 
above the horizon, she began to feel anxious. She went to 
the kitchen and said, " Tulee, have you seen anything of 
Floracita lately ? She went away while I was sleeping." 

" No, missy," she replied. " The last I see of her was 
in her room, with the embroidery-frame before her. She 
was looking out of the window, as she did sometimes, as if 
she was looking nowhere. She jumped up and hugged 
and kissed me, and called me ' Dear Tulee, good Tulee.' 
The little darling was always mighty loving. When I 
went there again, her needle was sticking in her work, and 
her thimble was on the frame, but she was gone. I don't 
know when she went away. Thistle 's come back alone ; 
but he does that sometimes when little missy goes ram- 
bling round." 

There was no uneasiness expressed in her tones, but, 
being more disquieted than she wished to acknowledge, 
she went forth to search the neighboring wood-paths and 
the sea-shore. When she returned, Hosa ran out with the 
eager inquiry, " Is she anywhere in sight ? ' In reply to 
the negative answer, she said: "I don't know what to make 
of it. Have you ever seen anybody with Floracita since 
we came here ? " 

" Nobody but Massa Gerald," replied Tulee. 

"I wonder whether she was discontented here," said 
Rosa. " I don't see why she should be, for we all loved 


her dearly ; and Gerald was as kind to her as if she had 
been his own sister. But she has n't seemed like herself 
lately ; and this forenoon she hugged and kissed me ever so 
many times, and cried. When I asked her what was the 
matter, she said she was thinking of the pleasant times 
when Papasito querido was alive. Do you think she was 
unhappy ? " 

" She told me once she was homesick for Madame Guir- 
lande," replied Tulee. 

" Did she ? Perhaps she was making so many things for 
Madame because she meant to go there. But she could n't 
find her way alone, and she knew it would be very danger- 
ous for either of us to go to New Orleans." 

Tulee made no reply. She seated herself on a wooden 
bench by the open door, swinging her body back and forth 
in an agitated way, ever and anon jumping up and looking 
round in all directions. The veil of twilight descended 
upon the earth, and darkness followed. The two inmates 
of the cottage felt very miserable and helpless, as they sat 
there listening to every sound. For a while nothing was 
heard but the dash of the waves, and the occasional hoot- 
ing of an owl. The moon rose up above the pines, and 
flooded earth and sea with silvery splendor. 

"I want to go to the plantation and call Tom," said 
Rosa ; " and there is such bright moonshine we might go, 
but I am afraid Gerald would be displeased." 

Tulee at once volunteered to bring out Thistle, and to 
walk beside her mistress. 

Both started at the sound of footsteps. They were not 
light enough for Floracita, but they thought it might be 
some one bringing news. It proved to be the master of 
the house. 




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" Why, Gerald, how glad I am ! I thought you were in 
Savannah," exclaimed Rosa. " Have you seen anything 
of Floracita?" 

" No. Is n't she here ? " inquired he, in such a tone of 
surprise, that Tulee's suspicions were shaken. 

Rosa repeated the story of her disappearance, and con- 
cluded by saying, " She told Tulee she was homesick to go 
to Madame." 

" She surely would n't dare to do that," he replied. 

" Massa Gerald," said Tulee, and she watched him 
closely while she spoke, " there 's something I did n't tell 
Missy Rosy, 'cause I was feared it would worry her. I 
found this little glove of Missy Flory's, with a bunch of 
sea- weed, down on the beach ; and there was marks of her 
feet all round." 

Rosa uttered a cry. " O heavens ! " she exclaimed, " I 
saw an alligator a few days ago." 

An expression of horror passed over his face. " I 've 
cautioned her not to fish so much for shells and sea-mosses," 
said he ; " but she was always so self-willed." 

" Don't say anything against the little darling ! " im- 
plored Rosa. " Perhaps we shall never see her again." 

He spoke a few soothing words, and then took his hat, 
saying, " I am going to the sea-shore." 

" Take good care of yourself, dear Gerald ! " cried 

" No danger 'bout that," muttered Tulee, as she walked 
out of hearing. " There 's things with handsomer mouths 
than alligators that may be more dangerous. Poor little 
bird ! I wonder where he has put her." 

His feelings as he roamed on the beach were not to be 
envied. His mind was divided between the thoughts that 


she had committed suicide, or had been drowned acciden- 
tally. That she had escaped from his persecutions by night 
he could not believe; for he knew she was entirely unused 
to taking care of herself, and felt sure she had no one to 
help her. He returned to say that the tide had washed 
away the footprints, and that he found no vestige of the 
lost one. 

At dawn he started for the plantation, whence, after 
fruitless inquiries, he rode to the Welby estate. Mrs. Del- 
ano had requested the household' servants not to mention 
having seen a small young lady there, and they had nothing 
to communicate. 

He resolved to start for New Orleans as soon as possible. 
After a fortnight's absence he returned, bringing grieved 
and sympathizing letters from the Signor and Madame ; 
and on the minds of all, except Tulee, the conviction set- 
tled that Floracita was drowned. Hope lingered long 
in her mind. " Wherever the little pet may be, she '11 
surely contrive to let us know," thought she. "She ain't 
like the poor slaves when they 're carried off. She can 
write." Her mistress talked with her every day about the 
lost darling ; but of course such suspicions were not to be 
mentioned to her. Gerald, who disliked everything mourn- 
ful, avoided the subject entirely ; and Rosabella, looking 
upon him only with the eyes of love, considered it a sign 
of deep feeling, and respected it accordingly. 

But, blinded as she was, she gradually became aware 
that he did not seem exactly like the same man who first 
won her girlish love. Her efforts to please him were not 
always successful. He was sometimes moody and fretful. 
He swore at the slightest annoyance, and often flew into 
paroxysms of anger with Tom and Tulee. He was more 


and more absent from the cottage, and made few profes- 
sions of regret for such frequent separations. Some weeks 
after Flora's disappearance, he announced his intention to 
travel in the North during the summer months. Rosa- 
bella looked up in his face with a pleading expression, but 
pride prevented her from asking whether she might ac- 
company him. She waited in hopes he would propose it; 
but as he did not even think of it, he failed to interpret 
the look of disappointment in her expressive eyes, as she 
turned from him with a sigh. 

" Tom will come with the carriage once a week," said 
he ; " and either he or Joe will be here every night." 

" Thank you," she replied. 

But the tone was so sad that he took her hand with the 
tenderness of former times, and said, " You are sorry to 
part with me, Bella Rosa ? " 

" How can I be otherwise than sorry," she asked, 
" when I am all alone in the world without you ? Dear 
Gerald, are we always to live thus ? Will you never ac- 
knowledge me as your wife ? " 

" How can I do it," rejoined he, " without putting myself 
in the power of those cursed creditors ? It is no fault of 
mine that your mother was a slave." 

" We should be secure from them in Europe," she re- 
plied. " Why could n't we live abroad ? " 

" Do you suppose my rich uncle would leave me a cent 
if he found out I had married the daughter of a quad- 
roon ? " rejoined he. " I have met with losses lately, and 
I can't afford to offend my uncle. I am sorry, dear, that 
you are dissatisfied with the home I have provided for 

" I am not dissatisfied with my home," said she. " I have 


no desire to mix with the world, but it is necessary for you, 
and these separations are dreadful. " 

His answer was : " I will write often, dearest, and I will 
send you quantities of new music. I shall always be look- 
ing forward to the delight of hearing it when I return. 
You must take good care of your health, for my sake. You 
must go ambling about with Thistle every day." 

The suggestion brought up associations that overcame 
her at once. " O how Floracita loved Thistle ! " she ex- 
claimed. " And it really seems as if the poor beast misses 
her. I am afraid we neglected her too much, Gerald. 
We were so taken up with our own happiness, that we 
did n't think of her so much as we ought to have done." 

" I am sure I tried to gratify all her wishes," responded 
he. "I have nothing to reproach myself with, and cer- 
tainly you w r ere always a devoted sister. This is a morbid 
state of feeling, and you must try to drive it off. You 
said a little while ago that you wanted to see how the plan- 
tation was looking, and what flowers had come out in the 
garden. Shall I take you there in the barouche to-mor- 
row ? " 

She gladly assented, and a few affectionate words soon 
restored her confidence in his love. 

When the carriage was brought to the entrance of the 
wood the next day, she went to meet it with a smiling face 
and a springing step. As he was about to hand her in, he 
said abruptly, " You have forgotten your veil." 

Tulee was summoned to bring it. As Rosa arranged it 
round her head, she remarked, " One would think you were 
ashamed of me, Gerald." 

The words were almost whispered, but the tone sounded 
more like a reproach than anything she had ever uttered. 



With ready gallantry he responded aloud, " I think so 
much of my treasure that I want to keep it all to myself." 

He was very affectionate during their drive ; and this, 
combined with the genial air, the lovely scenery, and the 
exhilaration of swift motion, restored her to a greater 
sense of happiness than she had felt since her darling sis- 
ter vanished so suddenly. 

The plantation was in gala dress. The veranda was al- 
most covered with the large, white, golden-eyed stars of the 
Cherokee rose, gleaming out from its dark, lustrous foliage. 
The lawn was a sheet of green velvet embroidered with 
flowers. Magnolias and oaks of magnificent growth orna- 
mented the extensive grounds. In the rear was a cluster 
of negro huts. Black picaninnies were rolling about in the 
grass, mingling their laughter with the songs of the birds. 
The winding paths of the garden were lined with flowering 
shrubs, and the sea sparkled in the distance. Wherever 
the eye glanced, all was sunshine, bloom, and verdure. 

For the first time, he invited her to enter the mansion. 
Her first movement was toward the piano. As she opened 
it, and swept her hand across the keys, he said : " It is 
sadly out of tune. It has been neglected because its own- 
er had pleasanter music elsewhere." 

" But the tones are very fine," rejoined she. " What a 
pity it shouldn't be used!" As she glanced out of the 
window on the blooming garden and spacious lawn, she 
said : " How pleasant it would be if we could live here ! 
It is so delightful to look out on such an extensive 
open space." 

" Perhaps we will some time or other, my love," re- 
sponded he. 

She smiled, and touched the keys, while she sang 


snatches of familiar songs. The servants who brought in 
refreshments wondered at her beauty, and clear, ringing 
voice. Many dark faces clustered round the crack of the 
door to obtain a peep ; and as they went away they ex- 
changed nudges and winks with each other. Tom and 
Chloe had confidentially whispered to some of them the ex- 
istence of such a lady, and that Tulee said Massa married 
her in the West Indies ; and they predicted that she would 
be the future mistress of Magnolia Lawn. Others gave it 
as their opinion, that Massa would never hide her as he 
did if she was to be the Missis. But all agreed that she 
was a beautiful, grand lady, and they paid her homage ac- 
cordingly. Her cheeks would have burned to scarlet flame 
if she had heard all their comments and conjectures ; but 
unconscious of blame or shame, she gave herself up to the 
enjoyment of those bright hours. 

A new access of tenderness seemed to have come over 
Fitzgerald ; partly because happiness rendered her beauty 
more radiant, and partly because secret thoughts that were 
revolving in his mind brought some twinges of remorse. 
He had never seemed more enamored, not even during the 
first week in Nassau, when he came to claim her as his 
bride. Far down in the garden was an umbrageous walk, 
terminating in a vine-covered bower. They remained 
there a long time, intertwined in each other's arms, talking 
over the memories of their dawning consciousness of love, 
and singing together the melodies in which their voices had 
first mingled. 

Their road home was through woods and groves fes- 
tooned with vines, some hanging in massive coils, others 
light and aerial enough for fairy swings ; then over the 
smooth beach, where wave after wave leaped up and 


tossed its white foam-garland on the shore. The sun 
was sinking in a golden sea, and higher toward the zenith 
little gossamer clouds blushingly dissolved in the brilliant 
azure, and united again, as if the fragrance of roses had 
floated into form. 

When they reached the cottage, Rosa passed through the 
silent little parlor with swimming eyes, murmuring to her- 
self: " Poor little Floracita! how the sea made me think 
of her. I ought not to have been so happy." 

But memory wrote the record of that halcyon day in 
illuminated manuscript, all glowing with purple and gold, 
with angel faces peeping through a graceful network of 



ROSABELLA had never experienced such loneliness 
as in the months that followed. All music was sad- 
dened by far-off echoes of past accompaniments. Embroid- 
ery lost its interest with no one to praise the work, or to be 
consulted in the choice of colors and patterns. The books 
Gerald occasionally sent were of a light character, and 
though they served to while away a listless hour, there was 
nothing in them to strengthen or refresh the soul. The iso- 
lation was the more painful because there was everything 
around her to remind her of the lost and the absent. Flo- 
ra's unfinished embroidery still remained in the frame, with 
the needle in the last stitch of a blue forget-me-not. Over 
the mirror was a cluster of blush-roses she had made. On 
the wall was a spray of sea-moss she had pressed and sur- 
rounded with a garland of small shells. By the door was 
a vine she had transplanted from the woods ; and under a 
tree opposite was a turf seat where she used to sit sketch- 
ing the cottage, and Tulee, and Thistle, and baskets of 
wild-flowers she had gathered. The sight of these things 
continually brought up visions of the loving and beautiful 
child, who for so many years had slept nestling in her 
arms, and made the days tuneful with her songs. Then 
there was Gerald's silent flute, and the silken cushion she 
had embroidered for him, on which she had so often seen 
him reposing, and thought him handsome as a sleeping 
Adonis. A letter from him made her cheerful for days ; 
but they did not come often, and were generally brief. 


Tom came with the carriage once a week, according to his 
master's orders ; but she found solitary drives so little re- 
freshing to body or mind that she was often glad to avail 
herself of Tulee's company. 

So the summer wore away, and September came to pro- 
duce a new aspect of beauty in the landscape, by tinging 
the fading flowers and withering leaves with various shades 
of brown and crimson, purple and orange. One day, early 
in the month, when Tom came with the carriage, she told 
him to drive to Magnolia Lawn. She had long been wish- 
ing to revisit the scene where she had been so happy on 
that bright spring day ; but she had always said to herself, 
" I will wait till Gerald comes." Now she had grown so 
weary with hope deferred, that she felt as if she could wait 
no longer. 

As she rode along she thought of improvements in the 
walks that she would suggest to Gerald, if they ever went 
there to live, as he had intimated they might. The ser- 
vants received her with their usual respectful manner and 
wondering looks ; but when she turned back to ask some 
question, she saw them whispering together with an un- 
usual appearance of excitement. Her cheeks glowed with 
a consciousness that her anomalous position was well cal- 
culated to excite their curiosity; and she- turned away, 
thinking how different it had been with her mother, — how 
sheltered and protected she had always been. She remem- 
bered how very rarely her father left home, and how he 
always hastened to return. She stood awhile on the ve- 
randa, thinking sadly, "If Gerald loves me as Papasito 
loved Mamita, how can he be contented to leave me so 
much ? " "With a deep sigh she turned and entered the 
house through an open window. The sigh changed at 


once to a bright smile. The parlor had undergone a won- 
drous transformation since she last saw it. The wood- 
work had been freshly painted, and the walls were covered 
with silvery-flowered paper. Over curtains of embroidered 
lace hung a drapery of apple-green damask, ornamented 
with deep white-silk fringe and heavy tassels. " How kind 
of Gerald ! " murmured she. " He has done this because I 
expressed a wish to live here. How ungrateful I was to 
doubt him in my thoughts ! " 

She passed into the chamber, where she found a white 
French bedstead, on which were painted bouquets of roses. 
It was enveloped in roseate lace drapery, caught up at the 
centre in festoons on the silver arrow of a pretty little 
Cupid. From silver arrows over the windows there fell 
the same soft, roseate folds. Her whole face was illumi- 
nated with happiness as she thought to herself: "Ah! I 
know why everything has a tinge of roses. How kind of 
him to prepare such a beautiful surprise for me ! " 

She traversed the garden walks, and lingered long in the 
sequestered bower. On the floor was a bunch of dried 
violets which he had placed in her belt on that happy day. 
She took them up, kissed them fervently, and placed them 
near her heart. That heart was lighter than it had been 
for months. " At last he is going to acknowledge me as 
his wife," thought she. " How happy I shall be when 
there is no longer any need of secrecy ! " 

The servants heard her singing as she traversed the gar- 
den, and gathered in groups to listen ; but they scattered 
as they saw her approach the house. 

" She ? s a mighty fine lady," said Dinah, the cook. 

"Mighty fine lady," repeated Tom; "an' I tell yer 
she 's married to Massa, an' she 's gwine to be de Missis." 


Venus, the chambermaid, who would have passed very 
well for a bronze image of the sea-born goddess, tossed her 
head as she replied : " Dunno bout dat ar. Massa does a 
heap o' courtin' to we far sex." 

" How yer know dat ar ? " exclaimed Dinah. " Whar 
d' yer git dem year-rings ? " And then there was a gen- 
eral titter. 

Rosabella, all unconscious in her purity, came up to Tom 
while the grin was still upon his face, and in her polite 
way asked him to have the goodness to bring the carriage. 
It was with great difficulty that she could refrain from out- 
bursts of song as she rode homeward ; but Gerald had par- 
ticularly requested her not to sing in the carriage, lest her 
voice should attract the attention of some one who chanced 
to be visiting the island. 

Her first words when she entered the cottage were : " O 
Tulee, I am so happy ! Gerald has fitted up Magnolia 
Lawn beautifully, because I told him I wished we could 
live there. He said, that day we were there, that he would 
try to make some arrangement with Papasito's creditors, 
and I do believe he has, and that I shall not have to 
hide much longer. He has been fitting up the house as if 
it were for a queen. " Is n't he kind ? " 

Tulee, who listened rather distrustfully to praises be- 
stowed on the master, replied that nobody could do any- 
thing too good for Missy Rosy. 

" Ah, Tulee, you have always done your best to spoil 
me," said she, laying her hand affectionately on the shoulder 
of her petted servant, while a smile like sunshine mantled 
her face. "But do get me something to eat. The ride 
has made me hungry." 

" Ise glad to hear that, Missy Rosy. I begun to think 


9 t want no use to cook nice tidbits for ye, if ye jist turned 
'em over wi' yer fork, and ate one or two mouthfuls, with- 
out knowing what ye was eatin'." 

" I 've been pining for Gerald, Tulee ; and I Ve been 
afraid sometimes that he did n't love me as he used to do. 
But now that he has made such preparations for us to live 
at Magnolia Lawn, I am as happy as a queen." 

She went off singing, and as Tulee looked after her she 
murmured to herself: "And what a handsome queen she 'd 
make ! Gold ain't none too good for her to walk on. But 
is it the truth he told her about settling with the creditors? 
There 's never no telling anything by what he says. Do 
hear her singing now ! It sounds as lively as Missy Flory. 
Ah ! that was a strange business. I wonder whether the 
little darling is dead." 

While she was preparing supper, with such cogitations 
passing through her mind, Rosa began to dash off a letter, 
as follows : — 

"Dearly Beloved, — I am so happy that I cannot 
wait a minute without telling you about it. I have done a 
naughty thing, but, as it is the first time I ever disobeyed 
you, I hope you will forgive me. You told me never to 
go to the plantation without you. But I waited and wait- 
ed, and you did n't come ; and we were so happy there, 
that lovely day, that I longed to go again: I knew it 
would be very lonesome without you ; but I thought it 
would be some comfort to see again the places where we 
walked together, and sang together, and called each other 
all manner of foolish fond names. Do you remember how 
many variations you rung upon my name, — Rosabella, 

Rosalinda, Rosamunda, Rosa Regina ? How you did pelt 



me with roses ! Do you remember how happy we were in 
the garden bower ? How we sang together the old-fash- 
ioned canzonet, ' Love in thine eyes forever plays ' ? And 
how the mocking-bird imitated your guitar, while you were 
singing the Don Giovanni serenade ? 

" I was thinking this all over, as I rode alone over the 
same ground we traversed on that happy day. But it was 
so different without the love-light of your eyes and the 
pressure of your dear hand, that I felt the tears gathering, 
and had all manner of sad thoughts. I feared you did n't 
care for me as you used to do, and were finding it easy to 
live without me. But when I entered the parlor that 
overlooks the beautiful lawn, all my doubts vanished. 
You had encouraged me to hope that it might be our 
future home ; but I little dreamed it was to be so soon, and 
that you were preparing such a charming surprise for me. 
Don't be vexed with me, dearest, for finding out your secret. 
It made me so happy ! It made the world seem like Para- 
dise. Ah ! I knew why everything was so rose-colored. 
It was so like you to think of that ! Then everything is so 
elegant ! You knew your Hosamunda's taste for elegance. 

" But Tulee summons me to supper. Dear, good, faith- 
ful Tulee ! What a comfort she has been to me in this 

lonesome time ! 


" Now I have come back to the pretty little writing-desk 
you gave me, and I will finish my letter. I feel as if I 
wanted to write to you forever, if I can't have you to talk 
to. You can't imagine how lonesome I have been. The 
new music you sent me was charming; but whatever I 
practised or improvised took a solemn and plaintive char- 
acter, like the moaning of the sea and the whispering of 


the pines. One's own voice sounds so solitary when there 
is no other voice to lean upon, and no appreciating ear to 
listen for the coming chords. I have even found it a relief 
to play and sing to Tulee, who is always an admiring lis- 
tener, if not a very discriminating one ; and as for Tom, it 
seems as if the eyes would fly out of his head when I play 
to him. I have tried to take exercise every day, as you 
advised ; but while the hot weather lasted, I was afraid of 
snakes, and the mosquitoes and sand-flies were tormenting. 
Now it is cooler I ramble about more, but my loneliness 
goes everywhere with me. Everything is so still here, 
that it sometimes makes me afraid. The moonlight looks 
awfully solemn on the dark pines. You remember that dead 
pine-tree ? The wind has broken it, and there it stands in 
front of the evergreen grove, with two arms spread out, 
and a knot like a head with a hat on it, and a streamer of 
moss hanging from it. It looks so white and strange in 
the moonlight, that it seems as if Floracita's spirit were 
beckoning to me. 

" But I did n't mean to write about sad things. I don't 
feel sad now ; I was only telling you how lonely and 
nervous I had been, that you might imagine how much 
good it has done me to see such kind arrangements at 
Magnolia Lawn. Forgive me for going there, contrary 
to your orders. I did so long for a little variety ! I 
could n't have dreamed you were planning such a pleasant 
surprise for me. Sha' n't we be happy there, calling one 
another all the old foolish pet names ? Dear, good Gerald, 
I shall never again have any ungrateful doubts of your love. 

" Adios, luz de mes ojos. Come soon to 

" Your grateful and loving 

" Rosa." 



That evening the plash of the waves no longer seemed 
like a requiem over her lost sister ; the moonlight gave 
poetic beauty to the pines ; and even the blasted tree, with 
its waving streamer of moss, seemed only another pictu- 
resque feature in the landscape ; so truly does Nature give 
us back a reflection of our souls. 

She waked from a refreshing sleep with a consciousness 
of happiness unknown for a long time. When Tom came 
to say he was going to Savannah, she commissioned him to 
go to the store where her dresses were usually ordered, 
and buy some fine French merino. She gave him very 
minute directions, accompanied with a bird-of-paradise 
pattern. " That is Gerald's favorite color," she said to 
herself. " I will embroider it with white floss-silk, and tie 
it with white silk cord and tassels. The first time we 
breakfast together at Magnolia Lawn I will wear it, fas- 
tened at the throat with that pretty little knot of silver 
filigree he gave me on my birthday. Then I shall look 
as bridal as the home he is preparing for me." 

The embroidery of this dress furnished pleasant occupa- 
tion for many days. "When it was half finished, she tried 
it on before the mirror, and smiled to see how becoming 
was the effect. She queried whether Gerald would like 
one or two of Madame Guirlande's pale amber-colored arti- 
ficial nasturtiums in her hair. She placed them coquet- 
tishly by the side of her head for a moment, and laid them 
down, saying to herself : " No ; too much dress for the 
morning. He will like better the plain braids of my hair 
with the curls falling over them." As she sat, hour af- 
ter hour, embroidering the dress which was expected to 
produce such a sensation, Tulee's heart was gladdened 
by hearing her sing almost continually. "Bless her 


dear heart ! " exclaimed she ; " that sounds like the old 

But when a fortnight passed without an answer to her 
letter, the showers of melody subsided. Shadows of old 
doubts began to creep over the inward sunshine ; though 
she tried to drive them away by recalling Gerald's promise 
to try to secure her safety by making a compromise with 
her father's creditors. And were not the new arrange- 
ments at Magnolia Lawn a sign that he had accomplished 
his generous purpose ? She was asking herself that ques- 
tion for the hundredth time, as she sat looking out on the 
twilight landscape, when she heard a well-known voice ap- 
proaching, singing, " C'est l'amour, l'amour, l'amour, qui 
fait le monde a la ronde " ; and a moment after she was 
folded in Gerald's arms, and he was calling her endearing 
names in a polyglot of languages, which he had learned 
from her and Floracita. 

" So you are not very angry with me for going there 
and finding out your secret," inquired she. 

" I was angry," he replied ; " but while I was coming to 
you all my anger melted away." 

" And you do love me as well as ever," said she. "I 
thought perhaps so many handsome ladies would fall in love 
with you, that I should not be your Rosa munda any more." 

" I have met many handsome ladies," responded he, 
" but never one worthy to bear the train of my Rosa Re- 

Thus the evening passed in conversation more agreeable 
to them than the wittiest or the wisest would have been. 
But it has been well said, " the words of lovers are like the 
rich wines of the South, — they are delicious in their native 
soil, but will not bear transportation." 


The next morning he announced the necessity of return- 
ing to the North to complete some business, and said he 
must, in the mean time, spend some hours at the plantation. 
" And Hosa dear," added he, " I shall really be angry with 
you if you go there again unless I am with you." 

She shook her finger at him, and said, with one of her 
most expressive smiles : " Ah, I see through you ! You 
are planning some more pleasant surprises for me. How 
happy we shall be there-! As for that rich uncle of yours, 
if you w T ill only let me see him, I will do my best to make 
him love me, and perhaps I shall succeed." 

" It would be wonderful if you did not, you charming 
enchantress," responded he. He folded her closely, and 
looked into the depths of her beautiful eyes with intensity, 
not unmingled with sadness. 

A moment after he was waving his hat from the shrub- 
bery ; and so he passed away out of her sight. His sud- 
den reappearance, his lavish fondness, his quick departure, 
and the strange earnestness of his farewell look, were re- 
membered like the flitting visions of a dream. 



IN less than three weeks after that tender parting, an el- 
egant barouche stopped in front of Magnolia Lawn, and 
Mr. Fitzgerald assisted a very pretty blonde young lady to 
alight from it. As she entered the parlor, wavering gleams 
of sunset lighted up the pearl-colored paper, softened by 
lace-shadows from the windows. The lady glanced round 
the apartment with a happy smile, and, turning to the win- 
dow, said: "What a beautiful lawn! What superb trees!" 

" Does it equal your expectations, dear ? " he asked. 
" You had formed such romantic ideas of the place, I 
feared you might be disappointed." 

" I suppose that was the reason you tried to persuade 
me to spend our honeymoon in Savannah," rejoined she. 
u But we should be so bored with visitors. Here, it seems 
like the Garden of Eden, when Adam and Eve had it all 
to themselves, before the serpent went there to make mis- 
chief. I had heard father and mother tell so much about 
Magnolia Lawn that I was eager to see it." 

" They visited it in spring, when it really does look like 
Paradise," replied he. " It has its beauties now ; but this 
is not the favorable season for seeing it ; and after we have 
been here a few days, I think we had better return to Sa- 
vannah, and come again when the lawn is carpeted with 

" I see your mind is bent upon not staying here," an- 
swered she ; " and I suppose it would be rather tiresome 
to have no other company than your stupid little Lily Bell." 


She spoke with a pouting affectation of reproach, and he 
exclaimed, " Lily, darling ! " as he passed his arm round her 
slender waist, and, putting aside a shower of pale yellowish 
ringlets, gazed fondly into the blue eyes that were upturned 
to his. 

They were interrupted by the entrance of Yenus, who 
came to ask their orders. " Tell them to serve supper at 
seven, and then come and show your mistress to her dress- 
ing-room^ he said. As she retired, he added : " Now she '11 
have something to tell of. She '11 be proud enough of be- 
ing the first to get a full sight of the new Missis ; and it is 
a sight worth talking about." 

With a gratified smile, she glanced at the pier-glass 
which reflected her graceful little figure, and, taking his 
arm, she walked slowly round the room, praising the taste- 
ful arrangements. " Everything has such a bridal look ! ' 
she said. 

" Of course," replied he ; " when I have such a fair Lily 
Bell for a bride, I wish to have her bower pearly and lily- 
like. But here is Yenus come to show you to your dress- 
ing-room. I hope you will like the arrangements up stairs 

She kissed her hand to him as she left the room, and he 
returned the salute. When she had gone, he paced slowly 
up and down for a few moments. As he passed the piano, 
he touched the keys in a rambling way. The tones he 
brought out were a few notes of an air he and Rosabella 
had sung in that same room a few months before. He 
turned abruptly from the instrument, and looked out from 
the window in the direction of the lonely cottage, Nothing 
was visible but trees and a line of the ocean beyond. But 
the chambers of his soul were filled with visions of Rosa. 


He thought of the delightful day they had spent together, 
looking upon these same scenes ; of their songs and caresses 
in the bower ; of her letter, so full of love and glad surprise 
at the bridal arrangements she supposed he had made for 
her, " I really hope Lily wont insist upon staying here 
long," thought he ; " for it is rather an embarrassing posi- 
tion for me." 

lie seated himself at the piano and swept his hand up 
and down the keys, as if trying to drown his thoughts in a 
tempest of sound. But, do what he would, the thoughts 
spoke loudest ; and after a while he leaned his head for- 
ward on the piano, lost in revery. 

A soft little hand touched his head, and a feminine voice 
inquired, " What are you thinking of, Gerald ? " 

" Of you, my pearl," he replied, rising hastily, and stoop- 
ing to imprint a kiss on the forehead of his bride. 

u And pray what were you thinking about me ? " she 

" That you are the greatest beauty in the world, and that 
I love you better than man ever loved woman," rejoined he. 
And so the game of courtship went on, till it was inter- 
rupted by a summons to supper. 

When they returned some time later, the curtains were 
drawn and candles lighted. i; You have not yet tried the 
piano," said he, as he placed the music-stool. 

She seated herself, and, after running up and down the 

keys, and saying she liked the tone of the instrument, she 

began to play and sing " Robin Adair." She had a sweet, 

thin voice, and her style of playing indicated rather one 

who had learned music, than one whose soul lived in its 

element. Fitzgerald thought of the last singing he had 

heard at that piano ; and without asking for another song, 

6* i 


lie began to sing to her accompaniment, " Drink to me only 
with thine eyes." He had scarcely finished the line, "Leave 
a kiss within the cup, and I '11 not ask for wine," when clear, 
liquid tones rose on the air, apparently from the veranda ; 
and the words they carried on their wings were these : — 

" Down in the meadow, 'mong the clover, 
I walked with Nelly by my side. 
Now all those happy days are over, 
Farewell, my dark Virginia bride. 
Nelly was a lady ; 
Last night she died. 
Toll the bell for lovely Nell, 
My dark Virginia bride." 

The bride listened intensely, her fingers resting lightly 
on the keys, and when the sounds died away she started 
up, exclaiming, " What a voice ! I never heard anything 
like it." 

She moved eagerly toward the veranda, but was sud- 
denly arrested by her husband. " No, no, darling," said 
he. " You must n't expose yourself to the night air." 

" Then do go out yourself and bring her in," urged she. 
" I must hear more of that voice. Who is she ? " 

" One of the darkies, I suppose," rejoined he. " You 
know they all have musical gifts." 

"Not such* gifts as that, I imagine," she replied. "Do 
go out and bring her in." 

She was about to draw the curtain aside to look out, 
when he nervously called her attention to another window. 
" See here ! " he exclaimed. " My people are gathering to 
welcome their new missis. In answer to Tom's request, 
I told him I would introduce you to them to-night. But 
you are tired, and I am afraid you will take cold in the 


evening air ; so we will postpone the ceremony until to- 


" O, no," she replied, " I would prefer to go now. How 
their black faces will shine when they see the glass beads 
and gay handkerchiefs I have brought for them ! Besides, 
I want to find out who that singer is. It 's strange you 
don't take more interest in such a voice as that, when you 
are so full of music. Will you have the goodness to ring 
for my shawl ? " 

With a decision almost peremptory in its tone, he said, 
" No ; I had rather you would not go out." Seeing that 
his manner excited some surprise, he patted her head and 
added : " Mind your husband now, that 's a good child. 
Amuse yourself at the piano while I go out." 

She pouted a little, but finished by saying coaxingly, 
" Come back soon, dear." She attempted to follow him 
far enough to look out on the veranda, but he gently put 
her back, and, kissing his hand to her, departed. She 
raised a corner of the curtain and peeped out to catch the 
last glimpse of his figure. The moon was rising, and she 
could see that he walked slowly, peering into spots of dense 
shadow or thickets of shrubbery, as if looking for some 
one. But all was motionless and still, save the sound of a 
banjo from the group of servants. " How I wish I could 
hear that voice again ! " she thought to herself. " It 's very 
singular Gerald should appear so indifferent to it. What 
can be the meaning of it ? " 

She pondered for a few minutes, and then she tried to 
play; but not finding it entertaining without an auditor, she 
soon rose, and, drawing aside one of the curtains, looked 
out upon the lovely night. The grand old trees cast broad 
shadows on the lawn, and the shrubbery of the garden 


gleamed in the soft moonlight. She felt solitary without 
any one to speak to, and, being accustomed to have her 
whims gratified, she was rather impatient under the pro- 
hibition laid upon her. She rung the bell and requested 
Venus to bring her shawl. The obsequious dressing-maid 
laid it lightly on her shoulders, and holding out a white 
nubia of zephyr worsted, she said, " PYaps missis would 
like to war dis ere." She stood watching while her mis- 
tress twined the gossamer fabric round her head with care- 
less grace. She opened the door for her to pass out on the 
veranda, and as she looked after her she muttered to her- 
self, " She 's a pooty missis ; but not such a gran' hansom 
lady as turrer." A laugh shone through her dark face as 
she added, " 'T would be curus ef she should fine turrer 
missis out dar." As she passed through the parlor she 
glanced at the large mirror, which dimly reflected her 
dusky charms, and said with a smile : " Massa knows 
what 's hansome. He r s good judge ob we far sex." 

The remark was inaudible to the bride, who walked up 
and down the veranda, ever and anon glancing at the gar- 
den walks, to see if Gerald were in sight. She had a little 
plan of hiding among the vines when she saw him coming, 
and peeping out suddenly as he approached. She thought 
to herself she should look so pretty in the moonlight, that 
he would forget to chide her. And certainly she was a 
pleasant vision. Her fairy figure, enveloped in soft white 
folds of muslin, her delicate complexion shaded by curls so 
fair that they seemed a portion of the fleecy nubia, were so 
perfectly in unison with the mild radiance of the evening, 
that she seemed like an embodied portion of the moonlight. 
Gerald absented himself so long that her little plan of sur- 
prising him had time to cool. She paused more frequently 


in her promenade, and looked longer at the distant sparkle 
of the sea. Turning to resume her walk, after one of these 
brief moments of contemplation, she happened to glance at 
the lattice-work of the veranda, and through one of its 
openings saw a large, dark eye watching her. She started 
to run into the house, but upon second thought she called 
out, " Gerald, you rogue, why didn't you speak to let me 
know you were there ? " She darted toward the lattice, 
but the eye disappeared. She tried to follow, but saw only 
a tall shadow gliding away behind the corner of the house. 
She pursued, but found only a tremulous reflection of vines 
in the moonlight. She kept on round the house, and into 
the garden, frequently calling out, " Gerald ! Gerald ! " 
" Hark ! hark ! " she murmured to herself, as some far-off 
tones of " Toll the bell " floated through the air. The 
ghostly moonlight, the strange, lonely place, and the sad, 
mysterious sounds made her a little afraid. In a more 
agitated tone, she called Gerald again. In obedience to 
her summons, she saw him coming toward her in the gar- 
den walk. Forgetful of her momentary fear, she sprang 
toward him, exclaiming : " Are you a wizard ? How did 
you get there, when two minutes ago you were peeping at 
me through the veranda lattice ? " 

" I have n't been there," he replied ; " but why are you 
out here, Lily, when I particularly requested you to stay 
in the house till I came ? " 

" O, you were so long coming, that I grew tired of being 
alone. The moonlight looked so invitingthat I went out 
on the veranda to watch for you ; and when I saw you 
looking at me through the lattice, I ran after you, and 
could n't find you." 

< I have n't been near the lattice," he replied. " If you 


saw somebody looking at you, I presume it was one of the 
servants peeping at the new missis." 

" None of your tricks ! " rejoined she, snapping her fin- 
gers at him playfully. " It was your eye that I saw. If it 
were n't for making you vain, I would ask you whether 
your handsome eyes could be mistaken for the eyes of one 
of your negroes. But I want you to go with me to that 
bower down there." 

" Not to-night, dearest," said he. " I will go with you 

" Now is just the time," persisted she. " Bowers never 
look so pretty as by moonlight. I don't think you are very 
gallant to your bride to refuse her such a little favor." 

Thus urged, he yielded, though reluctantly, to her whim. 
As she entered the bower, and turned to speak to him, the 
moonlight fell full upon her figure. " What a pretty little 
witch you are ! " he exclaimed. " My Lily Bell, my pre- 
cious pearl, my sylph ! You look like a spirit just floated 
down from the moon." 

" All moonshine ! " replied she, with a smile. 

He kissed the saucy lips, and the vines which had wit- 
nessed other caresses in that same bower, a few months 
earlier, whispered to each other, but told no tales. She 
leaned her head upon his bosom, and looking out upon the 
winding walks of the garden, so fair and peaceful in sheen 
and shadow, she said that her new home was more beauti- 
ful than she had dreamed. " Hark ! " said she, raising 
her head suddenly, and listening. " I thought I heard a 
sigh." " . 

" It was only the wind among the vines," he replied. 
"Wandering about in the moonlight has made you ner- 


" I believe I was a little afraid before you came," said 
she. " That eye looking at me through the lattice gave 
me a start ; and while I was running after your shadow, I 
heard that voice again singing, ' Toll the bell.' I wonder 
how you can be so indifferent about such a remarkable 
voice, when you are such a lover of music." 

" I presume, as I told you before, that it was one of the 
darkies," rejoined he. " I will inquire about it to-morrow." 

" I should sooner believe it to be the voice of an angel 
from heaven, than a darky," responded the bride. "I 
wish I could hear it again before I sleep." 

In immediate response to her wish, the full rich voice 
she had invoked began to sing an air from " Norma," be- 
ginning, " O, how his art deceived thee ! " 

Fitzgerald started so suddenly, he overturned a seat near 
them. " Hush ! " she whispered, clinging to his arm. Thus 
they stood in silence, she listening with rapt attention, he 
embarrassed and angry almost beyond endurance. The 
enchanting sounds were obviously receding. 

" Let us follow her, and settle the question who she is," 
said Lily, trying to pull him forward. But he held her 
back strongly. 

" JSTo more running about to-night," he answered almost 
sternly. Then, immediately checking himself, he added, in 
a gentler tone : " It is imprudent in you to be out so long 
in the evening air ; and I am really very tired, dear Lily. 
To-morrow I will try to ascertain which of the servants 
has been following you round in this strange way." 

" Do you suppose any servant could sing that f " she 

" They are nearly all musical, and wonderfully imita- 
tive," answered he. "They can catch almost anything 


they hear." He spoke in a nonchalant tone, but she felt 
his arm tremble as she leaned upon it. He had never be- 
fore made such an effort to repress rage. 

In tones of tender anxiety, she said: "I am afraid 
you are very tired, dear. I am sorry I kept you out 
so longr." 

" I am rather weary," he replied, taking her hand, and 
holding it in his. He was so silent as they walked toward 
the house, that she feared he was seriously offended with 

As they entered the parlor she said, "I didn't think 
you cared about my not going out, Gerald, except on ac- 
count of my taking cold ; and with my shawl and nubia I 
don't think there was the least danger of that. It was such 
a beautiful night, I wanted to go out to meet you, dear." 

He kissed her mechanically, and replied, " I am not 
offended, darling." 

" Then, if the blue devils possess you, we will try Saul's 
method of driving them away," said she. She seated her- 
self at the piano, and asked him whether he would accom- 
pany her with voice or flute. He tried- the flute, but 
played with such uncertainty, that she looked at him with 
surprise. Music was the worst remedy she could have 
tried to quiet the disturbance in his soul ; for its voice 
evoked ghosts of the past. 

" I am really tired, Lily," said he ; and, affecting a drow- 
siness he did not feel, he proposed retiring for the night. 

The chamber was beautiful with the moon shining through 
its rose-tinted drapery, and the murmur of the ocean was a 
soothing lullaby. But it was long before either of them 
slept; and when they slumbered, the same voice went 
singing through their dreams. He was in the flowery par- 


lor at New Orleans, listening to " The Light of other Days " ; 
and she was following a veiled shadow through a strange 
garden, hearing the intermingled tones of "Norma" and 
" Toll the bell." 

It was late in the morning when she awoke. Gerald 
was gone, but a bouquet of fragrant flowers lay on the pil- 
low beside her. Her dressing-gown was on a chair by the 
bedside, and Venus sat at the window sewing. 

" Where is Mr. Fitzgerald ? " she inquired. 

" He said he war gwine to turrer plantation on business. 
He leff dem flower dar, an' tole me to say he 'd come back 


The fair hair was neatly arranged by the black hands that 
contrasted so strongly with it. The genteel little figure 
was enveloped in a morning-dress of delicate blue and 
white French cambric, and the little feet were ensconced 
in slippers of azure velvet embroidered with silver. The 
dainty breakfast, served on French porcelain, was slowly 
eaten, and still Gerald returned not. She removed to the 
chamber window, and, leaning her cheek on her hand, looked 
out upon the sun-sparkle of the ocean. Her morning 
thought was the same with which she had passed into slum- 
ber the previous night. How strange it was that Gerald 
would take no notice of that enchanting voice ! The inci- 
dent that seemed to her a charming novelty had, she knew 
not why, cast a shadow over the first evening in their 
bridal home. 



E. FITZGERALD had ordered his horse to be 
saddled at an earlier hour than Tom had ever 
known him to ride, except on a hunting excursion, and in 
his own mind he concluded that his master would be asleep 
at the hour he had indicated. Before he stretched. himself 
on the floor for the night, he expressed this opinion to the 
cook by saying, " Yer know, Dinah, white folks is allers 
mighty wide awake de night afore dey gits up." 

To his surprise, however, Mr. Fitzgerald made his ap- 
pearance at the stable just as he was beginning to comb 
the horse. " You lazy black rascal," he exclaimed, " did n't 
I order you to have the horse ready by this time ? " 

" Yes, Massa " replied Tom, sheering out of the way of 
the upraised whip ; " but it peers like Massa's watch be 
leetle bit faster dan de sun dis ere mornin'." 

The horse was speedily ready, and Tom' looked after his 
master as he leaped into the saddle and dashed off in the 
direction of the lonely cottage. There was a grin on his 
face as he muttered, " Reckon Missis don't know whar yer 
gwine." He walked toward the house, whistling, "Nelly 
was a lady." 

" Dat ar war gwine roun' an' roun' de hus las' night, jes 
like a sperit. 'Twar dat ar Spanish lady," said Dinah. 

"She sings splendiferous," rejoined Tom, "an' Massa 
liked it more dan de berry bes bottle ob wine." He ended 
by humming, " Now all dem happy days am ober." 

" Better not let Massa hear yer sing dat ar," said Dinah. 
" He make yer sing nudder song." 


" She 's mighty gran' lady, an' a bery perlite missis, an* 
Ise sorry fur her," replied Tom. 

Mr. Fitzgerald had no sense of refreshment in his morn- 
ing ride. He urged his horse along impatiently, with brow 
contracted and lips firmly compressed. He was rehearsing 
in his mind the severe reprimand he intended to bestow 
upon Rosa. He expected to be met with tears and re- 
proaches, to which he would show himself hard till she 
made contrite apologies for her most unexpected and pro- 
voking proceedings. It was his purpose to pardon her at 
last, for he was far enough from wishing to lose her ; and 
she had always been so gentle and submissive, that he en- 
tertained no doubt the scene would end with a loving 
willingness to accept his explanations, and believe in his 
renewed professions. " She loves me to distraction, and 
she is entirely in my power," thought he. " It will be 
strange indeed if I cannot mould her as I will." 

Arrived at the cottage, he found Tulee washing on a 
bench outside the kitchen. " Good morning, Tulee," said 
he. " Is your mistress up yet ? " 

"Missy Rosy ha'n't been asleep," she answered in a 
very cold tone, without looking up from her work. 

He entered the house, and softly opened the door of 
Rosa's sleeping apartment. She was walking slowly, with 
arms crossed, looking downward, as if plunged in thought. 
Her extreme pallor disarmed him, and there was no hard- 
ness in his tone when he said, " Rosabella ! " 

She started, for she had supposed the intruder was Tulee. 
With head proudly erect, nostrils dilated, and eyes that 
flashed fire, she exclaimed, "How dare you come here?" 

This reception was so entirely unexpected, that it dis- 
concerted him ; and instead of the severe reproof he had 


contemplated, he said, in an expostulating tone : " Rosa, 
I always thought you the soul of honor. When we parted, 
you promised not to go to the plantation unless I was 
with you. Is this the way you keep your word ? " 

"You talk of honor and promises ! " she exclaimed. 

The sneer conveyed in the tones stung him to the quick. 
But he made an effort to conceal his chagrin, and said, with 
apparent calmness : " You must admit it was an unaccount- 
able freak to start for the plantation in the evening, and 
go wandering round the grounds in that mysterious way. 
What could have induced you to take such a step?" 

" I accidentally overheard Tom telling Tulee that you 
were to bring home a bride from the North yesterday. I 
could not believe it of you, and I was too proud to question 
him. But after reflecting upon it, I chose to go and see 
for myself. And when I had seen for myself, I washed 
to remind you of that past which you seemed to have for- 

" Curse on Tom!" he exclaimed. "He shall smart for 
this mischief." 

" Don't be so unmanly as to punish a poor servant for 
mentioning a piece of news that interested the whole plan- 
tation, and which must of course be a matter of notoriety," 
she replied very quietly. " Both he and Tulee were deli- 
cate enough to conceal it from me." 

Fitzgerald felt embarrassed by her perfect self-posses- 
sion. After a slight pause, during which she kept her face 
averted from him, he said : " I confess that appearances are 
against me, and that you have reason to feel offended. But 
if you knew just how I was situated, you would, perhaps, 
judge me less harshly. I have met with heavy losses 
lately, and I was in danger of becoming bankrupt unless I 


could keep up my credit by a wealthy marriage. The 
father of this young lady is rich, and she fell in love 
with me. I have married her ; but I tell you truly, dear 
Rosa, that I love you more than I ever loved any other 

" You say she loved you, and yet you could deceive her 
so," she replied. " You could conceal from her that you 
already had a wife. When I watched her as she walked 
on the veranda I was tempted to reveal myself, and dis- 
close your baseness." 

Fitzgerald's eyes flashed with sudden anger, as he vo- 
ciferated, " Rosa, if you ever dare to set up any such 
claim — " 

"If I dare!" she exclaimed, interrupting him in a tone 
of proud defiance, that thrilled through all his nerves. 

Alarmed by the strength of character which he had 
never dreamed she possessed, he said : " In your present 
state of mind, there is no telling what you may dare to 
do. It becomes necessary for you to understand your true 
position. You are not my wife. The man who married 
us had no legal authority to perform the ceremony." 

" steeped in falsehood to the lips ! " exclaimed she. 
" And you are the idol I have worshipped ! " 

He looked at her with astonishment not unmingled with 
admiration. " Rosa, I could not have believed you had 
such a temper," rejoined he. " But why will you persist 
in making yourself and me unhappy ? As long as my wife 
is ignorant of my love for you, no harm is done. If you 
would only listen to reason, we might still be happy. I 
could manage to visit you often. You would find me as 
affectionate as ever ; and I will provide amply for you." 

" Provide for me ? " she repeated slowly, looking him 


calmly and loftily in the face. " What have you ever seen 
in me, Mr. Fitzgerald, that has led you to suppose I would 
consent to sell myself?" 

His susceptible temperament could not withstand the 
regal beauty of her proud attitude and indignant look. 
" Rosa," said he, " there is no woman on earth to be 
compared with you. If you only knew how I idolize you 
at this moment, after all the cruel words you have uttered, 
you surely would relent. Why will you not be reasonable, 
dearest ? Why not consent to live with me as your mother 
lived with your father ? " 

" Don't wrong the memory of my mother," responded 
she hastily. " She was too pure and noble to be dishon- 
ored by your cruel laws. She would never have entered 
into any such base and degrading arrangement as you pro- 
pose. She couldn't have lived under the perpetual shame 
of deceiving another wife. She could n't have loved my 
father, if he had deceived her as you have deceived me. 
She trusted him entirely, and in return he gave her his 
undivided affection." 

" And I give you undivided affection," he replied. " By 
all the stars of heaven, I swear that you are now, as you 
always have been, my Rosa Regina, my Rosa munda." 

" Do not exhaust your oaths," rejoined she, with a con- 
temptuous curl of the lip. " Keep some of them for your 
Lily Bell, your precious pearl, your moonlight sylph." 

Thinking the retort implied a shade of jealousy, he felt 
encouraged to persevere. "You may thank your own im- 
prudence for having overheard words so offensive to you," 
responded he. " But Rosa, dearest, you cannot, with all 
your efforts, drive from you the pleasant memories of our 
love. You surely do not hate me ? " 


" No, Mr. Fitzgerald ; you have fallen below hatred. I 
despise you." 

His brow contracted, and his lips tightened. " I cannot 
endure this treatment," said he, in tones of suppressed rage. 
" You tempt me too far. You compel me to humble your 
pride. Since I cannot persuade you to listen to expostula- 
tions and entreaties, I must inform you that my power over 
you is complete. You are my slave. I bought you of 
your father's creditors before I went to Nassau. I can sell 
you any day I choose ; and, by Jove, I will, if — " 

The sudden change that came over her arrested him. 
She pressed one hand hard upon her heart, and gasped for 
breath. He sank at once on his knees, crying, " O, forgive 
me, Rosa ! I was beside myself." 

But she gave no sign- of hearing him; and seeing her 
reel backward into a chair, with pale lips and closing eyes, 
he hastened to summon Tulee. Such remorse came over 
him that he longed to w r ait for her returning consciousness. 
But he remembered that his long absence must excite sur- 
prise in the mind of his bride, and might, perhaps, connect 
itself with the mysterious singer of the preceding evening. 
Goaded by contending feelings, he hurried through the 
footpaths whence he had so often kissed his hand to Rosa 
in fond farewell, and hastily mounted his horse without one 
backward glance. 

Before he came in sight of the plantation, the perturba- 
tion of his mind had subsided, and he began to think him- 
self a much-injured individual. " Plague on the caprices 
of women ! " thought he. " All this comes of Lily's taking 
the silly, romantic whim of coming here to spend the honey- 
moon. And Rosa, foolish girl, what airs she assumes ! I 
wanted to deal generously by her ; but she rejected all my 


offers as haughtily as if she had been queen of Spain and 
all the Americas. There 's a devilish deal more of the 
Spanish blood in her than I thought for. Pride becomes 
her wonderfully ; but it won't hold out forever. She '11 
find that she can't live without me. I can wait." 

Feeling the need of some safety-valve to let off his vex- 
ation, he selected poor Tom for that purpose. When the 
obsequious servant came to lead away the horse, his master 
gave him a sharp cut of the whip, saying, " I '11 teach you 
to tell tales again, you black rascal ! " But having a dainty 
aversion to the sight of pain, he summoned the overseer, 
and consigned him to his tender mercies. 



F Flora could have known all this, the sisters would 
have soon been locked in each other's arras ; but while 
she supposed that Rosa still regarded Mr. Fitzgerald with 
perfect love and confidence, no explanation of her flight 
could be given. She did indeed need to be often reminded 
by Mrs. Delano that it would be the most unkind thing 
toward her sister, as well as hazardous to herself, to at- 
tempt any communication. Notwithstanding the tenderest 
care for her comfort and happiness, she could not help be- 
ing sometimes oppressed with homesickness. Her Boston 
home was tasteful and elegant, but everything seemed 
foreign and strange. She longed for Rosa and Tulee, and 
Madame and the Signor. She missed what she called the 
olla-podrida phrases to which she had always been accus- 
tomed ; and in her desire to behave with propriety, there 
was an unwonted sense of constraint. When callers came, 
she felt like a colt making its first acquaintance with har- 
ness. She endeavored to conceal such feelings from her 
kind benefactress ; but sometimes, if she was surprised in 
tears, she would say apologetically, "I love you dearly, 
Mamita Lila ; but it is dreadful to be so far away from 
anybody that ever knew anything about the old times." 

" But you forget that I do know something about them, 
darling," replied Mrs. Delano. " I am never so happy as 
when you are telling me about your father. Perhaps by 
and by, when you have become enough used to your new 

home to feel as mischievous as you are prone to be, you 

7 j 


will take a fancy to sing to me, ' O, there 's nothing half 
so sweet in life as love's old dream.' " 

It was beautiful to see how girlish the sensible and se- 
rious lady became in her efforts to be companionable to her 
young protegee. Day after day, her intimate friends found 
her playing battledoor or the Graces, or practising pretty 
French romanzas, flowery rondeaux, or lively dances. She 
was surprised at herself; for she had not supposed it possi- 
ble for her ever to take an interest in such things after her 
daughter died. But, like all going out of self, these efforts 
brought their recompense. 

She always introduced the little stranger as " Miss Flora 
Delano, my adopted daughter." To thosf who were cu- 
rious to inquire further, she said : " She is an orphan, in 
whom I became much interested in the West Indies. As 
we were both very much alone in the world, I thought the 
wisest thins; we could do would be to cheer each other's 
loneliness." No allusion was ever made to her former 
name, for that might have led to inconvenient questions 
concerning her father's marriage ; and, moreover, the lady 
had no wish to resuscitate the little piece of romance in 
her own private history, now remembered by few. 

It was contrary to Mrs. Delano's usual caution and de- 
liberation to adopt a stranger so hastily ; and had she been 
questioned beforehand, she would have pronounced it im- 
possible for her to enter into such a relation with one allied 
to the colored race, and herself a slave. But a strange 
combination of circumstances had all at once placed her in 
this most unexpected position. She never for one moment 
regretted the step she had taken ; but the consciousness of 
having a secret to conceal, especially a secret at war with 
the conventional rules of society, was distasteful to her, and 


felt as some diminution of dignity. She did not believe in 
the genuineness of Rosa's marriage, though she deemed it 
best not to impart such doubts to Flora. If Mr. Fitzgerald 
should marry another, she foresaw that it would be her 
duty to assist in the reunion of the sisters, both of whom 
were slaves. She often thought to herself, " In what a 
singular complication I have become involved ! So strange 
for me, who have such an aversion to all sorts of intrigues 
and mysteries." With these reflections were mingled anx- 
ieties concerning Flora's future. Of course, it would not 
be well for her to be deprived of youthful companionship ; 
and if she mixed with society, her handsome person, her 
musical talent, and her graceful dancing would be sure to 
attract admirers. And then, would it be right to conceal 
her antecedents ? And if they should be explained or ac- 
cidentally discovered, after her young affections were en- 
gaged, what disappointment and sadness might follow ! 

But Flora's future was in a fair way to take care of 
itself. One day she came flying into the parlor with her 
face all aglow. " Mamita Lila," exclaimed she, " I 
have had such a pleasant surprise ! I went to Mr. Gold- 
win's store to do your errand, and who should I find there 
but Florimond Blumenthal ! " 

" And, pray, who is Florimond Blumenthal ? " inquired 
Mrs. Delano. 

" O, have n't I told you ? I thought I had told you all 
about everybody and everything. He was a poor orphan, 
that papa took for an errand-boy. He sent him to school, 
and afterward he was his clerk. He came to our house 
often when I was a little girl ; but after he grew tall, papa 
used to send an old negro man to do our errands. So I 
did n't see him any more till cker papa died. He was very 


kind to us then. He was the one that brought those beau- 
tiful baskets I told you of. Is n't it funny ? They drove 
him away from New Orleans because they said he was an 
Abolitionist, and that he helped us to escape, when he 
did n't know anything at all about it. He said he heard 
we had gone to the North. And he went looking all round 
in New York, and then he came to Boston, hoping to see 
us or hear from us some day ; but he had about done ex- 
pecting it when I walked into the store. You never saw 
anybody so red as he was, when he held out his hand and 
said, in such a surprised way, ' Miss Royal, is it you ? ' 
Just out of mischief, I told him very demurely that my 
name was Delano. Then he became. very formal all at 
once, and said, ' Does this silk suit you, Mrs. Delano ? ' 
That made me laugh, and blush too. I told him I was n't 
married, but a kind lady in Summer Street had adopted 
me and given me her name. Some other customers came 
up to the counter, and so I had to come away." 

" Did you ask him not to mention your former name ? " 
inquired Mrs. Delano. 

" No, I had n't time to think of that," replied Flora ; 
" but I will ask him." 

" Don't go to the store on purpose to see him, dear. 
Young ladies should be careful about such things," sug- 
gested her maternal friend. 

Two hours afterward, as they returned from a carriage- 
drive, Flora had just drawn off her gloves, when she began 
to rap on the window, and instantly darted into the street. 
Mrs. Delano, looking out, saw her on the opposite side- 
walk, in earnest conversation with a young gentleman. 
When she returned, she said to her : " You should n't rap 
on the windows to young gentlemen, my child. It has n't 
a good appearance." 


" I did n't rap to young gentlemen," replied Flora. " It 
was only Florimond. I wanted to tell him not to mention 
my name. He asked me about my sister, and I told him 
she was alive and well, and I could n't tell him any more 
at present. Florimond won't mention anything I request 
him not to, — I know he won't." 

Mrs. Delano smiled to herself at Flora's quick, off-hand 
way of doing things. " But after all," thought she, " it is 
perhaps better settled so, than it would have been with 
more ceremony." Then speaking aloud, she said, " Your 
friend has a very blooming name." 

" His name was Franz," rejoined Flora ; " but Mamita 
called him Florimond, because he had such pink cheeks ; 
and he liked Mamita so much, that he always writes his 
name Franz Florimond. We always had so many flowery 
names mixed up with our olla-podrida talk. Your name 
is flowery too. I used to say Mamita would have called 
you Lady Viola; but violet colors and lilac colors are 
cousins, and they both suit your complexion and your 
name, Mamita Lila." 

After dinner, she began to play and sing with more 
gayety than she had manifested for many a day. While 
her friend played, she practised several new dances with 
great spirit ; and after she had kissed good-night, she went 
twirling through the door, as if music were handing her 

Mrs. Delano sat awhile in revery. She was thinking 
what a splendid marriage her adopted daughter might 
make, if it were not for that stain upon her birth. She 
was checked by the thought : " How I have fallen into the 
world's ways, which seemed to me so mean and heartless 
when I was young! Was /happy in the splendid mar- 


riage they made for me ? From what Flora lets out occa- 
sionally, I judge her father felt painfully the anomalous 
position of his handsome daughters. Alas ! if I had not 
been so weak as to give him up, all this miserable entan- 
glement might have been prevented. So one wrong pro- 
duces another wrong ; and thus frightfully ma*y we affect 
the destiny of others, while blindly following the lead of 
selfishness. But the past, with all its weaknesses and sins, 
has gone beyond recall ; and I must try to write a better 
record on the present." 

As she passed to her sleeping-room, she softly entered 
the adjoining chamber, and, shading the lamp with her 
hand, she stood for a moment looking at Flora. Though 
it was but a few minutes since she was darting round like 
a humming-bird, she was now sleeping as sweetly as a 
babe. She made an extremely pretty picture in her slum- 
ber, with the long dark eyelashes resting on her youthful 
cheek, and a shower of dark curls falling over her arm. 
"No wonder Alfred loved her so dearly," thought she. 
"If his spirit can see us, he must bless me for saving his 
innocent child." Filled with this solemn and tender 
thought, she knelt by the bedside, and prayed for blessing 
and guidance in the task she had undertaken. 

The unexpected finding of a link connected with old 
times had a salutary effect on Flora's spirits. In the 
morning, she said that she had had pleasant dreams about 
Rosabella and Tulee, and that she did n't mean to be home- 
sick any more. " It 's very ungrateful," added she, " when 
my dear, good Mamita Lila does so much to make me 

" To help you keep your good resolution, I propose that 
we go to the Athenaeum," said Mrs. Delano, smiling. 


Flora had never been in a gallery of paintings, and she 
was as much pleased as a little child with a new picture- 
book. Her enthusiasm attracted attention, and visitors 
smiled to see her clap her hands, and to hear her little 
shouts of pleasure or of fun. Ladies said to each other, 
" It 's plain that this lively little adoptee of Mrs. Delano's 
has never been much in good society." And gentlemen 
answered, " It is equally obvious that she has never kept 
vulgar company." 

Mrs. Delano's nice ideas of conventional propriety were 
a little disturbed, and she was slightly annoyed by the at- 
tention they attracted. But she said to herself, " If I am 
always checking the child, I shall spoil the naturalness 
which makes her so charming." So she quietly went on 
explaining the pictures, and giving an account of the 

The next day it rained ; and Mrs. Delano read aloud 
" The Lady of the Lake," stopping now and then to ex- 
plain its connection with Scottish history, or to tell what 
scenes Rossini had introduced in La Donna del Lago, 
which she had heard performed in Paris. The scenes of 
the opera were eagerly imbibed, but the historical lessons 
rolled off her memory, like water from a duck's back. It 
continued to rain and drizzle for three days; and Flora, 
who was very atmospheric, began to yield to the dismal 
influence of the weather. Her watchful friend noticed the 
shadow of homesickness coming over the sunlight of her 
eyes, and proposed that they should go to a concert. Flora 
objected, saying that music would make her think so much 
of Rosabella, she was afraid she should cry in public. 
But when the programme was produced, she saw nothing 
associated with her sister, and said, " I will go if you wish 


it, Mamita Lila, because I like to do everything you wish." 
She felt very indifferent about going ; but when Mr. Wood 
came forward, singing, " The sea, the sea, the open sea ! ' 
in tones so strong and full that they seemed the voice of 
the sea itself, she was half beside herself with delight. She 
kept time with her head and hands, with a degree of ani- 
mation that made the people round her smile. She, quite 
unconscious of observation, swayed to the music, and ever 
and anon nodded her approbation to a fair-faced young 
gentleman, who seemed to be enjoying the concert very, 
highly, though not to such a degree as to be oblivious of 
the audience. 

Mrs. Delano was partly amused and partly annoyed. 
She took Flora's hand, and by a gentle pressure, now and 
then, sought to remind her that they were in public ; but 
she understood it as an indication of musical sympathy, 
and went on all the same. 

When they entered the carriage to return home, she 
drew a long breath, and exclaimed, " O Mamita, how I 
have enjoyed the concert ! " 

" I am very glad of it," replied her friend. " I suppose 
that was Mr. Blumen'thal to whom vou nodded several 
times, and who followed you to the carriage. But, my 
dear, it is n't the custom for young ladies to keep nodding 
to young gentlemen in public places." 

" Is n't it ? I did n't think anything about it," rejoined 
Flora. " But Florimond is n't a gentleman. He 's an old 
acquaintance. Don't you find it very tiresome, Mamita, to 
be always remembering what is the custom ? I 'm sure / 
shall never learn." 

When she went singing up stairs that night, Mrs. Delano 
smiled to herself as she said, " What am I to do with this 


mercurial young creature ? What an overturn she makes 
in all my serious pursuits and quiet ways ! But there is 
something singularly refreshing about the artless little 

Warm weather was coming, and Mrs. Delano began to 
make arrangements for passing the summer at Newport ; 
but her plans were suddenly changed. One morning Flora 
wished to purchase some colored crayons to finish a draw- 
ing she had begun. As she was going out, her friend said 
to her, " The sun shines so brightly, you had better wear 
your veil." 

" O, I 've been muffled up so much, I do detest veils," 
replied Flora, half laughingly and half impatiently. " I 
like to have a whole world full of air to breathe in. But 
if you wish it, Mamita Lila, I will wear it." 

It seemed scarcely ten minutes after, when the door-bell 
was rung with energy, and Flora came in nervously agitated. 

" O Mamita ! " exclaimed she, " I am so glad you advised 
me to wear a veil. I met Mr. Fitzgerald in this very 
street. I don't think he saw me, for my veil was close, 
and as soon as I saw him coming I held my head down. 
He can't take me here in Boston, and carry me off, can he ? t " 

" He shall not carry you off, darling ; but you must not 
go in the street, except in the carriage with me. We will 
sit up stairs, a little away from the windows ; and if I read 
aloud, you won't forget yourself and sing at your embroidery 
or drawing, as you are apt to do. It 's not likely he will 
remain in the city many days, and I will try to ascertain 
his movements." 

Before they had settled to their occupations, a ring at 
the door made Flora start, and quickened the pulses of her 

less excitable friend. It proved to be only a box of flow- 



ers from the country. But Mrs. Delano, uneasy in the 
presence of an undefined danger, the nature and extent of 
which she did not understand, opened her writing-desk and 
wrote the following note : — 

"Mr. Willard Percival. 

" Dear Sir, — If you can spare an hour this evening to 

talk with me on a subject of importance, you will greatly 

oblige yours, 

" Very respectfully, 

" Lila Delano." 

A servant was sent with the note, and directed to admit 
no gentleman during the day or evening, without first 
bringing up his name. 

While they were lingering at the tea-table, the door-bell 
rang, and Flora, with a look of alarm, started to run up 
stairs. " Wait a moment, till the name is brought in," 
said her friend. " If I admit the visitor, I should like to 
have you follow- me to the parlor, and remain there ten or 
fifteen minutes. You can then go to your room, and when 
you are there, dear, be careful not to sing loud. • Mr. Fitz- 
gerald shall not take you from me ; but if he were to find 
out you were here, it might give rise to talk that would be 

The servant announced Mr. Willard Percival ; and a 
few moments afterward Mrs. Delano introduced her 'pro- 
tegee, Mr. Percival was too well bred to stare, but the 
handsome, foreign-looking little damsel evidently surprised 
him. He congratulated them both upon the relation be- 
tween them, and said he need not wish the young lady 
happiness in her new home, for he believed Mrs. Delano 
always created an atmosphere of happiness around her. 


After a few moments of desultory conversation, Flora left 
the room. When she had gone, Mr. Percival remarked, 
" That is a very fascinating young person." 

" I thought she would strike you agreeably," replied 
Mrs. Delano. " Her beauty and gracefulness attracted me 
the first time I saw her ; and afterward I was still more 
taken by her extremely naive manner. She has been 
brought up in seclusion as complete as Miranda's on the 
enchanted island ; and there is no resisting the charm of 
her impulsive naturalness. But, if you please, I will now 
explain the note I sent to you this morning. I heard some 
months ago that you had joined the Anti-Slavery Society." 

" And did you send for me hoping to convert me from the 
error of my ways ? " inquired he, smiling. 

" On the contrary, I sent for you to consult concerning a 
slave in whom I am interested." 

" You, Mrs. Delano ! " he exclaimed, in a tone of great 

" You may well think it strange," she replied, " know- 
ing, as you do, how bitterly both my father and my husband 
were opposed to the anti-slavery agitation, and how entirely 
apart my own life has been from anything of that sort. 
But while I was at the South this winter, I heard of a case 
which greatly interested my feelings. A wealthy American 
merchant in New Orleans became strongly attached to a 
beautiful quadroon, who was both the daughter and the 
slave of a Spanish planter. Her father became involved 
in some pecuniary trouble, and sold his daughter to the 
American merchant, knowing that they were mutually at- 
tached. Her bondage was merely nominal, for the tie of 
affection remained constant between them as long as she 
lived ; and he would have married her if such marriages 


had been legal in Louisiana. By some unaccountable 
carelessness, he neglected to manumit her. She left two 
handsome and accomplished daughters, who always sup- 
posed their mother to be a Spanish lady, and the wedded 
wife of their father. But he died insolvent, and, to their 
great dismay, they found themselves claimed as slaves un- 
der the Southern law, that ' the child follows the condition 
of the mother.' A Southern gentleman, who was in love 
with the eldest, married her privately, and smuggled them 
both away to Nassau. After a while he went there to meet 
them, having previously succeeded in buying them of the 
creditors. But his conduct toward the younger was so 
base, that she absconded. The question I wish to ask of 
you is, whether, if he should find her in the Free States, 
he could claim her as his slave, and have his claim allowed 
by law." 

" Not if he sent them to Nassau," replied Mr. Percival. 
" British soil has the enviable distinction of making free 
whosoever touches it." 

" But he afterward brought them back to an island 
between Georgia and South Carolina," said Mrs. Delano. 
" The eldest proved a most loving and faithful wife, and to 
this day has no suspicion of his designs with regard to her 

" If he married her before he went to Nassau, the cere- 
mony is not binding," rejoined Mr. Percival ; " for no mar- 
riage with a slave is legal in the Southern States." 

" I was ignorant of that law," said Mrs. Delano, " being 
very little informed on the subject of slavery. But I sus- 
pected trickery of some sort in the transaction, because he 
proved himself so unprincipled with regard to the sister." 

" And where is the sister ? " inquired Mr. Percival. 


" I trust to your honor as a gentleman to keep the secret 
from every mortal," answered Mrs. Delano. " You have 
seen her this evening." 

" Is it possible," he exclaimed, " that you mean to say 
she is your adopted daughter ? " 

"I did 'mean to say that," she replied. " I have placed 
great confidence in you ; for you can easily imagine it 
would be extremely disagreeable to me, as well as to her, 
to become objects of public notoriety." 

" Your confidence is a sacred deposit," answered he. 
" I have long been aware that the most romantic stories in 
the country have grown out of the institution of slavery; 
but this seems stranger than fiction. With all my knowl- 
edge of the subject, I find it hard to realize that such a 
young lady as that has been in danger of being sold on the 
auction-block in this republic. It makes one desirous to 
conceal that he is an American." 

" My principal reason for wishing to consult you," said 
Mrs. Delano, " is, that Mr. Fitzgerald, the purchaser of 
these girls, is now in the city, and Flora met him this 
morning. Luckily, she was closely veiled, and he did not 
recognize her. I think it is impossible he can have ob- 
tained any clew to my connivance at her escape, and yet I 
feel a little uneasy. I am so ignorant of the laws on this 
subject, that I don't know what he has the power to do if he 
discovers her. Can he claim her here in Boston ? " 

" He could claim her and bring her before the United 
States Court," replied Mr. Percival ; " but I doubt whether 
he would do it. To claim such a girl as that for a slave, 
would excite general sympathy and indignation, and put 
too much ammunition into the hands of us Abolitionists. 
Besides, no court in the Free States could help deciding 


that, if he sent her to Nassau, she became free. If he 
should discover her whereabouts, I should n't wonder if 
attempts were made to kidnap her ; for men of his charac- 
ter are very unscrupulous, and there are plenty of caitiffs 
in Boston ready to do any bidding of their Southern mas- 
ters. If she were conveyed to the South, though the courts 
ought to decide she was free, it is doubtful whether they 
would do it ; for, like Achilles, they scorn the idea that 
laws were made for such as they." 

" If I were certain that Mr. Fitzgerald knew of her be- 
ing here, or that he even suspected it," said Mrs. Delano, 
" I would at once take measures to settle the question by 
private purchase ; but the presumption is that he and the 
sister suppose Flora to be dead, and her escape cannot be 
made known without betraying the cause of it. Flora has 
a great dread of disturbing her sister's happiness, and she 
thinks that, now she is away, all will go well. Another dif- 
ficulty is, that, while the unfortunate lady believes herself 
to be his lawful wife, she is really his slave, and if she 
should offend him in any way he could sell her. It troubles 
me that I cannot discover any mode of ascertaining whether 
he deserts her or not. He keeps her hidden in the woods 
in that lonely island, where her existence is unknown, ex- 
cept to a few of his negro slaves. The only white friends 
she seems to have in the world are her music teacher and 
French teacher in New Orleans. Mr. Fitzgerald has im- 
pressed it upon their minds that the creditors of her father 
will prosecute him, and challenge him, if they discover that 
he first conveyed the girls away and then bought them at 
reduced prices. Therefore, if I should send an agent to 
New Orleans at any time to obtain tidings of the sister, 
those cautious friends would doubtless consider it a trap of 
the creditors, and would be very secretive." 


" It is a tangled skein to unravel," rejoined Mr. Perci- 
val. " I do not see how anything can be done for the sis- 
ter, under present circumstances." 

" I feel undecided what course to pursue with regard to 
my adopted daughter," said Mrs. Delano. " Entire seclu- 
sion is neither cheerful nor salutary at her age. But her 
person and manners attract attention and excite curiosity. 
I am extremely desirous to keep her history secret, but I 
already find it difficult to answer questions without resort- 
ing to falsehood, which is a practice exceedingly abhorrent 
to me, and a very bad education for her. After this meet- 
ing with Mr. Fitzgerald, I cannot take her to any public 
place without a constant feeling of uneasiness. The fact is, 
I am so unused to intrigues and mysteries, and I find it so 
hard to realize that a young girl like her can be in such a 
position, that I am bewildered, and need time to settle my 
thoughts upon a rational basis." 

" Such a responsibility is so new to you, so entirely for- 
eign to your habits, that it must necessarily be perplexing," 
replied her visitor. " I would advise you to go abroad for 
a while. Mrs. Percival and I intend to sail for Europe 
soon, and if you will join us we shall consider ourselves 

" I accept the offer thankfully," said the lady. " It will 
help me out of a present difficulty in the very way I was 
wishing for." 

When the arrangement was explained to Flora, with a 
caution not to go in the streets, or show herself at the win- 
dows meanwhile, she made no objection. But she showed 
her dimples with a broad smile, as she said, " It is written 
in the book of fate, Mamita Lila, * Always hiding or run- 
ning away.' " 



ALFRED R. KING, when summoned home to Bos- 
ton by the illness of his mother, had, by advice of 
physicians, immediately accompanied her to the South of 
France, and afterward to Egypt. Finding little benefit 
from change of climate, and longing for familiar scenes and 
faces, she urged her son to return to New England, after a 
brief sojourn in Italy. She was destined never again to 
see the home for which she yearned. The worn-out gar- 
ment of her soul was laid away under a flowery mound in 
Florence, and her son returned alone. During the two 
years thus occupied, communication with the United States 
had been much interrupted, and his thoughts had been so 
absorbed by his dying mother, that the memory of that 
bright evening in New Orleans recurred less frequently 
than it would otherwise have done. Still, the veiled pic- 
ture remained in his soul, making the beauty of all other 
women seem dim. As he recrossed the Atlantic, lonely 
and sad, a radiant vision of those two sisters sometimes 
came before his imagination with the distinctness of actual 
presence. As he sat silently watching the white streak 
of foam in the wake of the vessel, he could see, as in a 
mirror, all the details of that flowery parlor ; he could hear 
the continuous flow of the fountain in the garden, and the 
melodious tones of " Buena Notte, amato bene." 

Arrived in Boston, his first inquiry of the merchants 
was whether they had heard anything of Mr. Royal. He 
received the news of his death with a whirl of emotions. 


How he longed for tidings concerning the daughters ! But 
questions would of course be unavailing, since their exist- 
ence was entirely unknown at the North. That Mr. Royal 
had died insolvent, and his property had been disposed of 
at auction, filled him with alarm. It instantly occurred to 
him how much power such circumstances would place in 
the hands of Mr. Fitzgerald. The thought passed through 
his mind, " Would he marry Rosabella ? " And he seemed 
to hear a repetition of the light, careless tones, " Of course 
not, — she was a quadroon." His uneasiness was too strong 
to be restrained, and the second day after his arrival he 
started for New Orleans. 

He found the store of his old friend occupied by strangers, 
who could only repeat what he had already heard. He 
rode out to the house where he had passed that never-to- 
be-forgotten evening. There all was painfully changed. 
The purchasers had refurnished the house with tasteless 
gewgaws, and the spirit of gracefulness had vanished. 
Their unmodulated voices grated on his ear, in contrast 
with the liquid softness of Rosabella's tones, and the merry, 
musical tinkling of Floracita's prattle. All they could tell 
him was, that they heard the quadroons who used to be 
kept there by the gentleman that owned the house had 
gone to the North somewhere. A pang shot through his 
soul as he asked himself whether they remembered his offer 
of assistance, and had gone in search of him. He turned 
and looked back upon the house, as he had done that fare- 
well morning, when he assured them that he would be a 
brother in time of need. He could hardly believe that all 
the life and love and beauty which animated that home 
had vanished into utter darkness. It seemed stranger 

than the changes of a dream. 



Very sad at heart, he returned to the city and sought 
out a merchant with whom his father had been accustomed 
to transact business. " Mr. Talbot," said he, " I have come 
to New Orleans to inquire concerning the affairs of the late 
Mr. Alfred Royal, who was a particular friend of my 
father. I have been surprised to hear that he died in- 
solvent ; for I supposed him to be wealthy." 

66 He was generally so considered," rejoined Mr. Talbot. 
" But he was brought down by successive failures, and 
some unlucky investments, as we merchants often are, you 

" Were you acquainted with him," asked Alfred. 

" I knew very little of him, except in the way of busi- 
ness," replied the merchant. " He was disinclined to 
society, and therefore some people considered him eccen- 
tric ; but he had the reputation of being a kind-hearted, 
honorable man." 

" I think he never married," said Alfred, in a tone of 
hesitating inquiry, which he hoped might lead to the sub- 
ject he had at heart. 

But it only elicited the brief reply, "He was a bachelor." 

" Did you ever hear of any family not legitimated by 
law ? " inquired the young man. 

" There was a rumor about his living somewhere out of 
the city with a handsome quadroon," answered the mer- 
chant. " But such arrangements are so common here, they 
excite no curiosity." 

" Can you think of any one who had intimate relations 
with him, of whom I could learn something about that con- 
nection ? " 

" No, I cannot. As I tell you, he never mixed with 
society, and people knew very little about him. Ha ! 


there 's a gentleman going by now, who may be able to 
give you some information. Hallo, Signor Papanti !" 

The Italian, who was thus hailed, halted in his quick 
walk, and, being beckoned to by Mr. Talbot, crossed the 
street and entered the store. 

" I think you brought a bill against the estate of the late 
Mr. Alfred Royal for lessons given to some quadroon girls. 
Did you not ? " inquired the merchant. 

Having received an answer in the affirmative, he said : 
" This is Mr. King, a young gentleman from the North, 
who wishes to obtain information on that subject. Perhaps 
you can give it to him." 

" I remember the young gentleman," replied the Signor. 
" Mr. Royal did introduce me to him at his store." 

The two gentlemen thus introduced bade Mr. Talbot 
good morning, and walked away together, when Mr. King 
said, " My father and Mr. Royal were as brothers, and 
that is the reason I feel interested to know what has be- 
come of his daughters." 

The Italian replied, " I will tell you, sir, because Mr. 
Royal told me you were an excellent man, and the son of 
his old friend." 

Rapid questions and answers soon brought out the prin- 
cipal features of the sisters' strange history. When it came 
to the fact of their being claimed as slaves, Mr. King 
started. " Is such a thing possible in this country ? " he 
exclaimed. " Girls so elegant and accomplished as they 
were ! " 

" Quite possible, sir," responded the Signor. " I have 
known several similar instances in this city. But in this 
case I was surprised, because I never knew their mother 
was a slave. She was a singularly handsome and ladylike 


" How was it possible that Mr. Royal neglected to manu- 
mit her? " inquired the young man. 

" I suppose he never thought of her otherwise than as 
his wife, and never dreamed of being otherwise than rich/' 
rejoined the Signor. " Besides, you know how often death 
does overtake men with their duties half fulfilled. He did 
manumit his daughters a few months before his decease ; 
but it was decided that he was then too deeply in debt to 
have a right to dispose of any portion of his property." 

" Property ! " echoed the indignant young man. " Such 
a term applied to women makes me an Abolitionist." 

" Please not to speak that word aloud," responded the 
Italian. " I was in prison several weeks on the charge of 
helping off those interesting pupils of mine, and I don't 
know what might have become of me, if Mr. Fitzgerald 
had not helped me by money and influence. I have my 
own opinions about slavery, but I had rather go out of 
New Orleans before I express them." 

" A free country indeed ! " exclaimed the young man, 
" where one cannot safely express his indignation against 
such enormities. But tell me how the girls were rescued 
from such a dreadful fate ; for by the assurance you gave 
me at the outset that they needed no assistance, I infer that 
, they were rescued." 

He listened with as much composure as he could to the 
account of Mr. Fitzgerald's agency in their escape, his mar- 
riage, Rosabella's devoted love for him, and her happy 
home on a Paradisian island. The Signor summed it up 
by saying, "I believe her happiness has been entirely 
without alloy, except the sad fate of her sister, of which 
we heard a few weeks ago." 

"What has happened to her?" inquired Alfred, with 
eager interest. 


" She went to the sea-shore to gather mosses, and never 
returned," replied the Signor. " It is supposed she slipped 
into the water and was drowned, or that she was seized by 
an alligator." 

" horrid !" exclaimed Alfred. "Poor Floracita! What 
a bright, beaming little beauty she was ! But an alliga- 
tor's mouth was a better fate than slavery." 

" Again touching upon the dangerous topic ! " rejoined 
the Signor. " If you stay here long, I think you and the 
prison-walls will become acquainted. But here is what 
used to be poor Mr. Royal's happy home, and yonder is 
where Madame Papanti resides, — the Madame Guir- 
lande I told you of, who befriended the poor orphans 
when they had no other friend. Her kindness to them, 
and her courage in managing for them, was what first put 
it in my head to ask her to be my wife. Come in and have 
a tete-a-tete with her, sir. She knew the girls from the 
time they were born, and she loved them like a mother." 

Within the house, the young man listened to a more 
prolonged account, some of the details of which were new, 
others a repetition. Madame dwelt with evident satisfac- 
tion on the fact that Rosa, in the midst of all her peril, re- 
fused to accept the protection of Mr. Fitzgerald, unless she 
were married to him ; because she had so promised her 
father, the night before he died. 

" That was highly honorable to her," replied Mr. King ; 
" but marriage with a slave is not valid in law." 

" So the Signor says," rejoined Madame. " I was so 
frightened and hurried, and I was so relieved w r hen a pro- 
tector offered himself, that I did n't think to inquire any* 
thing about it. Before Mr. Fitzgerald made his appearance, 
we had planned to go to Boston in search of you." 


" Of me ! " he exclaimed eagerly. " O, how I wish you 
had, and that I had been in Boston to receive you ! " 

" Well, I don't know that anything better could be done 
than has been done," responded Madame. " The girls 
were handsome to the perdition of their souls, as we say in 
France ; and they knew no more about the world than two 
blind kittens. Their mother came here a stranger, and 
she made no acquaintance. Thus they seemed to be left 
singularly alone when their parents were gone. Mr. Fitz- 
gerald was so desperately in love with Rosabella, and she 
with him, that they could not have been kept long apart 
any way. He has behaved very generously toward them. 
By purchasing them, he has taken them out of the power 
of the creditors, some of whom were very bad men. He 
■bought Rosa's piano, and several other articles to which 
they were attached on their father's and mother's account, 
and conveyed them privately to the new home he had pro- 
vided for them. Rosabella always writes of him as the 
most devoted of husbands ; and dear little Floracita used to 
mention him as the kindest of brothers. So there seems 
every reason to suppose that Rosa will be as fortunate as 
her mother was." 

" I hope so," replied Mr. King. " But I know Mr. 
Royal had very little confidence in Mr. Fitzgerald ; and 
the brief acquaintance I had with him impressed me with 
the idea that he was a heartless, insidious man. More- 
over, they are his slaves." 

" They don't know that," rejoined Madame. " He has 
had the delicacy to conceal it from them." 
m " It would have been more delicate to have recorded 
their manumission," responded Mr. King. 

" That would necessarily involve change of residence," 


remarked the Signor ; " for the laws of Georgia forbid the 
manumission of slaves within the State." 

" What blasphemy to call such cruel enactments by the 
sacred name of law ! " replied the young man. " As well 
might the compacts of robbers to secure their plunder be 
called law. The walls have no ears or tongues, Signor," 
added he, smiling ; " so I think you will not be thrust in 
jail for having such an imprudent guest. But, as I was 
saying, I cannot help having misgivings concerning the 
future. I want you to keep a sharp lookout concerning 
the welfare of those young ladies, and to inform me from 
time to time. Wheresoever I may happen to be, I will 
furnish you with my address, and I wish you also to let me 
know where you are to be found, if you should change 
your residence. My father and Mr. Royal were like 
brothers when they were young men, and if my father 
were living he would wish to protect the children of his 
friend. The duty that he would have performed devolves 
upon me. I will deposit five thousand dollars with Mr. 
Talbot, for their use, subject to your order, should any 
unhappy emergency occur. I say their use, bearing in 
mind the possibility that Floracita may reappear, though 
that seems very unlikely. But, my friends, I wish to bind 
you, by the most solemn promise, never to mention my 
name in connection with this transaction, and never to 
give any possible clew to it. I wish you also to conceal 
my having come here to inquire concerning them. If they 
ever need assistance, I do not wish them to know or con- 
jecture who their benefactor is. If you have occasion to 
call for the money, merely say that an old friend of their 
father's deposited it for their use." 

" I will solemnly pledge myself to secrecy," answered 


the Signor ; " and though secrets are not considered very 
safe with women, I believe Madame may be trusted to any 
extent, wdiere the welfare of these girls is concerned." 

"I think you might say rather more than that, my 
friend," rejoined Madame. " But that will do. I promise 
to do in all respects as the young gentleman has requested, 
though I trust and believe that his precautions will prove 
needless. Mr. Fitzgerald is very wealthy, and I cannot 
suppose it possible that he would ever allow Rosabella to 
want for anything." 

" That may be," replied Mr. King. " But storms come 
up suddenly in the sunniest skies, as was the case with 
poor Mr. Royal. If Mr. Fitzgerald's love remains con- 
stant, he may fail, or he may die, without making provision 
for her manumission or support." 

" That is very true," answered the Signor. " How much 
forecast you Yankees have ! " 

" I should hardly deserve that compliment, my friends, 
if I failed to supply you with the necessary means to carry 
out my wishes." He put two hundred dollars into the 
hands of each, saying, " You will keep me informed on the 
subject ; and if Mrs. Fitzgerald should be ill or in trouble, 
you will go to her." 

They remonstrated, saying it was too much. " Take it 
then for what you have done," replied he. 

When he had gone, Madame said, " Do you suppose he 
does all this on account of the friendship of their fathers ? " 

" He's an uncommon son, if he does," replied the Sig- 
nor. " But I 'm glad Rosabella has such a firm anchor to 
the windward if a storm should come." 

Mr. King sought Mr. Talbot again, and placed five thou- 
sand dollars in his hands, with the necessary forms and in- 


structions, adding : " Should any unforeseen emergency 
render a larger sum necessary, please to advance it, and 
draw on me. I am obliged to sail for Smyrna soon, on 
business, or I would not trouble you to attend to this." 

Mr. Talbot smiled significantly, as he said, " These 
young ladies must be very charming, to inspire so deep 
an interest in their welfare." 

The young man, clad in the armor of an honest purpose, 
did not feel the point of the arrow, and answered quietly : 
" They are very charming. I saw them for a few hours 
only, and never expect to see them again. Their father 
and mine were very intimate friends, and I feel it a duty to 
protect them from misfortune if possible." When the busi- 
ness was completed, and they had exchanged parting salu- 
tations, he turned back to say, " Do you happen to know 
anything of Mr. Fitzgerald of Savannah ? " 

" I never had any acquaintance with him," replied Mr. 
Talbot ; " but he has the name of being something of a 
roue, and rather fond of cards." 

" Can the death of Floracita be apocryphal ? " thought 
Alfred. " Could he be capable of selling her ? No. Sure- 
ly mortal man could not wrong that artless child." 

He returned to his lodgings, feeling more fatigued and 
dispirited than usual. He had done all that was possible 
for the welfare of the woman who had first inspired him 
with love ; but 0, what would he not have given for such 
an opportunity as Fitzgerald had ! He was obliged to 
confess to himself that the utter annihilation of his hope 
was more bitter than he had supposed it would be. He no 
longer doubted that he would have married her if he could, 
in full view of all her antecedents, and even with his moth- 
er's prejudices to encounter. He could not, however, help 



smiling at himself, as he thought : " Yet how very different 
she was from what I had previously resolved to choose ! 
How wisely I have talked to young men about preferring 
character to beauty ! And lo ! I found myself magnetized 
at first sight by mere beauty ! " 

But manly pride rebelled against the imputation of such 
weakness. " No, it was not mere outward beauty," he said 
to himself. " True, I had no opportunity of becoming ac- 
quainted with the qualities of her soul, but her countenance 
unmistakably expressed sweetness, modesty, and dignity, 
and the inflexions of her voice were a sure guaranty for 

With visions of past and future revolving round him, he 
fell asleep and dreamed he saw Rosabella alone on a plank, 
sinking in a tempestuous sea. Free as he thought himself 
from superstition, the dream made an uncomfortable im- 
pression on him, though he admitted that it was the natural 
sequence of his waking thoughts. 



ROSA came out of her swoon in a slow fever accom- 
panied with delirium. Tulee was afraid to leave her 
long enough to go to the plantation in search of Tom ; and 
having no medicines at hand, she did the best thing that 
could have been done. She continually moistened the 
parched tongue with water, and wiped the hot skin with 
wet cloths. While she was doing this, tears fell on her 
dear young mistress, lying there so broken and helpless, 
talking incoherently about her father and Floracita, about 
being a slave and being sold. This continued eight or ten 
days, during which she never seemed to recognize Tulee's 
presence, or to be conscious where she was. She was 
never wild or troublesome, but there were frequent 
restless motions, and signs of being afraid of something. 
Then such a heavy drowsiness came over her, that it was 
difficult to arouse her sufficiently to swallow a spoonful 
of nourishment. She slept, and slept, till it seemed as if 
she would sleep forever. " Nature, dear, goddess," was do- 
ing the best she could for the poor weak body, that had 
been so racked by the torture of the soul. 

Three weeks passed before Mr. Fitzgerald again made 
his appearance at the lonely cottage. He had often thought 
of Rosa meanwhile, not without uneasiness and some twin- 
ges of self-reproach. But considering the unlucky begin- 
ning of his honeymoon at Magnolia Lawn, he deemed it 
prudent to be very assiduous in his attentions to his bride. 
He took no walks or drives without her, and she seemed 


satisfied with his entire devotion ; but a veiled singing 
shadow haunted the chambers of her soul. When she and 
her husband were occupied with music, she half expected 
the pauses would be interrupted by another voice ; nor was 
he free from fears that those wandering sounds would come 
again. But annoyed as he would have been by the rich 
tones of that voice once so dear to him, his self-love was 
piqued that Rosa took no steps to recall him. He had 
such faith in his power over her, that he had been daily 
hoping for a conciliatory note. Tom had been as attentive 
to the invalid as his enslaved condition would admit ; but 
as Tulee said very decidedly that she did n 't want Massa 
Fitzgerald to show his face there, he did not volunteer any 
information. At last, his master said to him one day, 
" You 've been to the cottage, I suppose, Tom ? " 

" Yes, Massa." 

" How are they getting on there ? " 

" Missy Rosy hab bin bery sick, but she done better 

" Why did n't you tell me, you black rascal ? " 

" Massa hab neber ax me," replied Tom. 

Mr. Fitzgerald found some food for vanity in this news. 
He presumed the illness was caused by love for him, which 
Rosa found herself unable to conquer. This idea was very 
pleasant to him ; for it was not easy to relinquish the beau- 
tiful young creature who had loved him so exclusively. 
Making a pretext of business, he mounted his horse and 
rode off; throwing a farewell kiss to his bride as he went. 
For greater security, he travelled a few moments in another 
direction, and then sought the sequestered cottage by a cir- 
cuitous route. Tulee was vexed at heart when she heard 
him, as he came through the woods, humming, " C'est 


V amour, V amour" ; and when he entered the cottage, she 
wished she was a white man, that she could strike him. 
But w r hen he said, u Tulee, how is your mistress ? " she 
civilly answered, " Better, Massa." 

He passed softly into Rosa's room. She was lying on 
the bed, in a loose white robe, over which fell the long 
braids of her dark hair. The warm coloring had entirely 
faded from her cheeks, leaving only that faintest reflection 
of gold which she inherited from her mother ; and the thin- 
ness and pallor of her face made her large eyes seem larger 
and darker. They were open, but strangely veiled ; as if 
shadows were, resting on the soul, like fogs upon a land- 
scape. When Gerald bent over her, she did not see him, 
though she seemed to be looking at him. He called her 
by the tenderest names ; he cried out in agony, " O Rosa, 
speak to me, darling ! " She did not hear him. Pie had 
never before been so deeply moved. He groaned aloud, 
and, covering his face with his hands, he wept. 

When Tulee, hearing the sound, crept in to see whether 
all was well with her mistress, she found him in that pos- 
ture. She w r ent out silently, but when she was beyond 
hearing she muttered to herself, " Ise glad he 's got any 
human feelin'." 

After the lapse of a few moments, he came to her, say- 
ing, " O Tulee, do you think she 's going to die ? Could n't 
a doctor save her ? " 

" No, Massa, I don't believe she 's going to die," replied 
Tulee ; " but she '11 be very weak for a great while. I 
don't think all the doctors in the world could do poor Missy 
Rosy any good. It 's her soul that 's sick, Massa ; and 
nobody but the Great Doctor above can cure that." 

Her words cut him like a knife ; but, without any at- 


tempt to excuse the wrong he had done, he said : " I am 
going to Savannah for the winter. I will leave Tom and 
Chloe at the plantation, with instructions to do whatever 
you want done. If I am needed, you can send Tom for 

The melancholy wreck he had seen saddened him for a 
day or two ; those eyes, with their mysterious expression 
of somnambulism, haunted him, and led him to drown un- 
comfortable feelings in copious draughts of wine. But, 
volatile as he was impressible, the next week saw him the 
gayest of .the gay in parties at Savannah, where his pretty 
little bride was quite the fashion. 

At the cottage there was little change, except that Chloe, 
by her master's permission, became a frequent visitor. She 
was an affectionate, useful creature, with good voice and 
ear, and a little wild gleam of poetry in her fervid eyes. 
When she saw Rosa lying there so still, helpless and un- 
conscious as a new-born babe, she said, solemnly, " De 
sperit hab done gone somewhar." She told many stories 
of wonderful cures she had performed by prayer ; and she 
would kneel by the bedside, hour after hour, holding the 
invalid's hand, praying, " O Lord, fotch back de sperit ! 
Fotch back de sperit ! Fotch back de sperit ! " she would 
continue to repeat in ascending tones, till they rose to wild 
imploring. Tulee, looking on one day, said, " Poor Missy 
Rosy don't hear nothin' ye say, though ye call so loud." 

" De good Lord up dar, He hars," replied Chloe, rev- 
erently pointing upward ; and she went on with the vehe- 
ment repetition. These supplications were often varied 
with Methodist hymns and negro melodies, of which the 
most common refrain was, " O glory ! glory ! glory ! " 
But whether singing or praying, she made it a point to 


hold the invalid's hand and look into her eyes. For a long 
while, the spirit that had gone somewhere showed no signs 
of returning, in obedience to the persevering summons. 
But after several weeks had elapsed, there was a blind 
groping for Chloe's hand ; and when it was found, Tulee 
thought she perceived something like a little flickering 
gleam flit over the pale face. Still, neither of the nurses 
was recognized ; and no one ever knew what the absent 
soul was seeing and hearing in that mysterious somewhere 
whither it had flown. At last, Chloe's patient faith was 
rewarded by a feeble pressure of her hand. Their watch- 
fulness grew more excited ; and never did mother welcome 
the first gleam of intelligence in her babe with more thrill- 
ing joy, than the first faint, quivering smile on Kosa's lips 
was welcomed by those anxious, faithful friends. The eyes 
began to resume their natural expression. The fog was 
evidently clearing away from the soul, and the sunshine 
was gleaming through. The process of resuscitation was 
thenceforth constant, though very slow. It was three 
months after those cruel blows fell upon her loving heart 
before she spoke and feebly called them by their names. 
And not until a month later was she able to write a few 
lines to quiet the anxiety of Madame and the Signpr. 

A few days before her last ghostly visit to Magnolia 
Lawn, she had written them a very joyful letter, telling 
them of Gerald's preparations to acknowledge her as his 
wife, and make her the mistress of his beautiful home. 
They received the tidings with great joy, and answered 
with hearty congratulations. The Signor was impatient to 
write to Mr. King ; but Madame, who had learned precau- 
tion and management by the trials and disappointments 
of a changing life, thought it best to wait till they could 


inform him of the actual fact. As Rosa had never been in 
the habit of writing oftener than once in four or five weeks, 
the j felt no uneasiness until after that time had elapsed ; 
and even then they said to each other, " She delays writ- 
ing, as we do, until everything is arranged." But when 
seven or eight weeks had passed, Madame wrote again, 
requesting an immediate answer. Owing to the peculiar 
position of the sisters, letters to them had always been sent 
under cover to Mr. Fitzgerald ; and when this letter arrived, 
he was naturally curious to ascertain whether Madame 
was aware of his marriage. It so happened that it had not 
been announced in the only paper taken by the Signor ; and 
as they lived in a little foreign world of their own, they 
remained in ignorance of it. Having read the letter, Mr. 
Fitzgerald thought, as Rosa was not in a condition to read 
it, it had better be committed to the flames. But fearing 
that Madame or the Signor might come to Savannah in 
search of tidings, and that some unlucky accident might 
bring them to speech of his bride, he concluded it was best 
to ward off such a contingency. He accordingly wrote a 
very studied letter to Madame, telling her that, with her 
knowledge of the world, he supposed she must be well 
aware that the daughter of a quadroon slave could not be 
legally recognized as the wife of a Southern gentleman ; 
that he still loved Rosa better than any other woman, but 
wishing for legal heirs to his hereditary estate, it was ne- 
cessary for him to marry. He stated that Rosa was recov- 
ering from a slow fever, and had requested him to say that 
they must not feel anxious about her ; that she had every- 
thing for her comfort, had been carefully attended by two 
good nurses, was daily getting better, and would write in a 
few weeks ; meanwhile, if anything retarded her complete 
recovery, he would again write. 


This letter he thought would meet the present emer- 
gency. His plans for the future were unsettled. He still 
hoped that Rosa, alone and unprotected as she was, with- 
out the legal ownership of herself, and subdued by sickness 
and trouble, would finally accede to his terms. 

She, in her unconscious state, was of course ignorant of 
this correspondence. For some time after she recognized 
her nurses, she continued to be very drowsy, and mani- 
fested no curiosity concerning her condition. She was as 
passive in their hands as an infant, and they treated her as 
such. Chloe sung to her, and told her stories, which were 
generally concerning her own remarkable experiences ; for 
she was a great seer of visions. Perhaps she owed them to 
gifts of imagination, of which culture would have made her 
a poet ; but to her they seemed to be an objective reality. 
She often told of seeing Jesus, as she walked to and from 
the plantation. Once she had met him riding upon Thistle, 
with a golden crown upon his head. One evening he had 
run before her all the way, as a very little child, whose 
shining garments lighted up all the woods. 

Four months after the swift destruction of her hopes, 
Rosa, after taking some drink from Tulee's hand, looked 
up in her face, and said, " How long have I been sick, dear 

" No matter about that, darling," she replied, patting her 
head fondly. " Ye must n't disturb your mind 'bout that." 

After a little pause, the invalid said, " But tell me" how 

" Well then, darling, I did n't keep no 'count of the time ; 
but Tom says it 's February now." 

" Yer see, Missy Rosy," interposed Chloe, " yer sperit 
hab done gone somewhar, an' yer did n't know nottin'. 

8* L 


But a booful angel, all in white, tuk yer by de han' an' 
toted yer back to Tulee an' Chloe. Dat ar angel hab grat 
hansum eyes, an' she tole me she war yer mudder ; an' dat 
she war gwine to be wid yer allers, cause twar de will ob 
de Lord." 

Rosa listened with a serious, pleased expression in her 
face ; for the words of her simple comforter inspired a 
vague consciousness of some supernatural presence sur- 
rounding her with invisible protection. 

A few hours after, she asked, with head averted from her 
attendant, "Has any one been here since I have been 
ill ? " 

Anxious to soothe the wounded heart as much as possi- 
ble, Tulee answered : " Massa Gerald come to ask how ye 
did ; and when he went to Savannah, he left Tom and 
Chloe at the plantation to help me take care of ye." 

She manifested no emotion ; and after a brief silence she 
inquired for letters from Madame. Being informed that 
there were none, she expressed a wish to be bolstered up, 
that she might try to write a few lines to her old friend. 
Chloe, in reply, whispered something in her ear, which 
seemed to surprise her. Her cheeks flushed, the first time 
for many a day ; but she immediately closed her eyes, and 
tears glistened on the long, dark lashes. In obedience to 
the caution of her nurses, she deferred any attempt to write 
till the next week. She remained very silent during the 
day, but they knew that her thoughts were occupied ; for 
they often saw tears oozing through the closed eyelids. 

Meanwhile, her friends in New Orleans were in a state 
of great anxiety. Mr. Fitzgerald had again written in a 
strain very similar to his first letter, but from Rosa herself 
nothing had been received. 


" I don't know what to make of this," said Madame. 
" Rosa is not a girl that would consent to a secondary posi- 
tion where her heart was concerned." 

" You know how common it is for quadroons to accede 
to such double arrangements/' rejoined the Signor. 

" Of course I am well aware of that," she replied ; " but 
they are educated, from childhood, to accommodate them- 
selves to their subordinate position, as a necessity that can- 
not be avoided. It was far otherwise with Rosa. More- 
over, I believe there is too much of Grandpa Gonsalez in 
her to submit to anything she deemed dishonorable. I 
think, my friend, somebody ought to go to Savannah to in- 
quire into this business. If you should go, I fear you would 
get into a duel. You know dear Floracita used to call you 
Signor Pimentero. But Mr. Fitzgerald won't fight me, 
let me say what I will. So I think I had better go." 

" Yes, you had better go. You 're a born diplomate, 
which I am not," replied the Signor. 

Arrangements were accordingly made for going in a day 
or two ; but they were arrested by three or four lines from 
Rosa, stating that she was getting well, that she had every- 
thing for her comfort, and would write more fully soon. 
But what surprised them was that she requested them to 
address her as Madame Gonsalez, under cover to her man- 
tuamaker in Savannah, whose address was given. 

" That shows plainly enough that she and Fitzgerald 
have dissolved partnership," said Madame ; " but as she 
does not ask me to come, I will wait for her letter of ex- 
planation." Meanwhile, however, she wrote very affec- 
tionately in reply to the brief missive, urging Rosa to come 
to New Orleans, and enclosing fifty dollars, with the state- 
ment that an old friend of her father's had died and left 


a legacy for his daughters. Madame had, as Floracita 
observed, a talent for arranging the truth with varia- 

The March of the Southern spring returned, wreathed 
with garlands, and its pathway strewn with flowers. She 
gave warm kisses to the firs and pines as she passed, and 
they returned her love with fragrant sighs. The garden 
at Magnolia Lawn had dressed itself with jonquils, hya- 
cinths, and roses, and its bovver was a nest of glossy green- 
ery, where mocking-birds were singing their varied tunes, 
moving their white tail-feathers in time to their music. 
Mrs. Fitzgerald, who was not strong in health, was bent 
upon returning thither early in the season, and the servants 
were busy preparing for her reception. Chloe was rarely 
spared to go to the hidden cottage, where her attendance 
upon Rosa was no longer necessary ; but Tom came once a 
week, as he always had done, to do whatever jobs or er- 
rands the inmates required. One day Tulee was surprised 
to hear her mistress ask him whether Mr. Fitzgerald was 
at the plantation ; and being answered in the affirmative, 
she said, " Have the goodness to tell him that Missy Rosy 
would like to see him soon." 

When Mr. Fitzgerald received the message, he adjusted 
his necktie at the mirror, and smiled over his self-compla- 
cent thoughts. He had hopes that the proud beauty was 
beginning to relent. Paving left his wife in Savannah, 
there was no obstacle in the way of his obeying the sum- 
mons. As he passed over the cottage lawn, he saw that 
Rosa was sewing at the window. He slackened his pace 
a little, with the idea that she might come out to meet 
him ; but when he entered the parlor, she was still occu- 
pied with her work. She rose on his entrance, and moved 


a chair toward him ; and when he said, half timidly, " How 
do you do now, dear Rosa ? " she quietly replied, " Much 
better, I thank you. I have sent for you, Mr. Fitzgerald, 
to ask a favor.'' 

" If it is anything in my power, it shall be granted," he 

" It is a very easy thing for you to do," rejoined she, 
" and very important to me. I want you to give me papers 
of manumission." 

" Are you so afraid of me ? " he asked, coloring as he 
remembered a certain threat he had uttered. 

"I did not intend the request as any reproach to you," 
answ T ered she, mildly ; " but simply as a very urgent ne- 
cessity to myself. As soon as my health will permit, I 
wish to be doing something for my own support, and, if 
possible, to repay you what you expended for me and my 

" Do you take me for a mean Yankee," exclaimed he in- 
dignantly, " that you propose such an account of dollars 
and cents ? " 

" I expressed my own wishes, not what I supposed you 
would require," replied she. " But aside from that, you 
can surely imagine it must be painful to have my life 
haunted by this dreadful spectre of slavery." 

" Rosa," said he earnestly, " do me the justice to remem- 
ber that I did not purchase you as a slave, or consider you 
a slave. I expended money with all my heart to save my 
best-beloved from misfortune." 

" I believe those were your feelings then," she replied. 
" But let the past be buried. I simply ask you now, as a 
gentleman who has it in his power to confer a great favor 
on an unprotected woman, whether you will manumit me." 


" Certainly I will," answered he, much discomposed by 
her cool business tone. 

She rose at once, and placed the writing-desk before him. 
It was the pretty little desk he had given her for a birth- 
day present. 

He put his finger on it, and, looking up in her face, 
with one of his old insinuating glances, he said, " Rosa, 
do you remember what we said when I gave you this ? " 

Without answering the question, she said, " Will you 
have the goodness to write it now ? " 

" Why in such haste ? " inquired he. " I have given 
you my promise, and do you suppose I have no sense of 
honor ? " 

A retort rose to her lips, but she suppressed it. " None 
of us can be sure of the future," she replied. " You know 
what happened when my dear father died." Overcome by 
that tender memory, she covered her eyes with her hand, 
and the tears stole through her fingers. 

He attempted to kiss away the tears, but she drew 
back, and went on to say : " At that time I learned the 
bitter significance of the law, ' The child shall follow the 
condition of the mother.' It was not mainly on my own 
account that I sent for you, Mr. Fitzgerald. I wish to 
secure my child from such a dreadful contingency as well- 
nigh ruined me and my sister." She blushed, and lowered 
her eyes as she spoke. 

" O Rosa ! " he exclaimed. The impulse was strong to 
fold her to his heart ; but he could not pass the barrier of 
her modest dignity. 

After an embarrassed pause, she looked up bashfully, 
and said, " Knowing this, you surely will not refuse to write 
it now." 


" I must see a lawyer and obtain witnesses," he replied. 

She sighed heavily. " I don't know what forms are 
necessary," said she. " But I beg of you to take such 
steps as will make me perfectly secure against any acci- 
dents. And don't delay it, Mr. Fitzgerald. Will you 
send the papers next week ? " 

" I see you have no confidence in me," replied he, sadly. 
Then, suddenly dropping on his knees beside her, he ex- 
claimed, " Rosa, don't call me Mr. again. Do call me 
Gerald once more ! Do say you forgive me ! " 

She drew back a little, but answered very gently : " I 
do forgive you, and I hope your innocent little wife will 
never regret having loved you ; for that is a very bitter 
trial. I sincerely wish you may be happy ; and you may 
rest assured I shall not attempt to interfere with your hap- 
piness. But I am not strong enough to talk much. Please 
promise to send those papers next week." 

He made the promise, with averted head and a voice that 
was slightly tremulous. 

" I thank you," she replied ; " but I am much fatigued, 
and will bid you good morning." She rose to leave the 
room, but turned back and added, with solemn earnestness, 
" I think it will be a consolation on your death-bed if you 
do not neglect to fulfil Rosa's last request." She passed 
into the adjoining room, fastened the door, and threw her- 
self on the couch, utterly exhausted. How strange and 
spectral this meeting seemed ! She heard his retreating 
footsteps without the slightest desire to obtain a last glimpse 
of his figure. How entirely he had passed out of her life, 
he who so lately was all her life ! 

The next day Rosa wrote as follows to Madame and 
the Signor : — 


" Dearest and best Friends, — It would take days 
to explain to you all that has happened since I wrote 
you that long, happy letter ; and at present I have not 
strength to write much. When we meet we will talk 
about it more fully, though I wish to avoid the miser- 
able particulars as far as possible. The preparations I 
so foolishly supposed were being made for me were for 
a rich Northern bride, — a pretty, innocent-looking little 
creature. The marriage with me, it seems, was coun- 
terfeit. When I discovered it, my first impulse was to 
fly to you. But a strange illness came over me, and 
I was oblivious of everything for four months. My good 
Tulee and a black woman named Chloe brought me back 
to life by their patient nursing. I suppose it was wrong, 
but when I remembered who and what I was, I felt sorry 
they did n't let me go. I was again seized with a longing 
to fly to you, who were as father and mother to me and my 
darling little sister 4n the days of our first misfortune. 
But I was too weak to move, and I am still far from being 
able to bear the fatigue of such a journey. Moreover, I 
am fastened here for the present by another consideration. 
Mr. Fitzgerald says' he bought us of papa's creditors, and 
that I am his slave. I have entreated him, for the sake 
of our unborn child, to manumit me, and he has promised 
to do it. If I could only be safe in New Orleans, it is my 
wish to come and live with you, and find some way to sup- 
port myself and my child. But I could have no peace, so 
long as there was the remotest possibility of being claimed 
as slaves. Mr. Fitzgerald may not mean that I shall ever 
come to harm ; but he. may die without providing -against 
it, as poor papa did. I don't know what forms are neces- 
sary for my safety. I don't understand how it is that there 


is no law to protect a defenceless woman, who has done no 
wrong. I will wait here a little longer to recruit my 
strength and have this matter settled. I wish it were pos- 
sible for you, my dear, good mother, to come to me for two * 
or three weeks in June ; then perhaps you could take back 
with you your poor Rosa and her baby, if their lives should 
be spared. But if you cannot come, there is an experienced 
old negress here, called Granny Nan, who, Tulee says, will 
take good care of me. I thank you for your sympathizing, 
loving letter. Who could papa's friend be that left me a 
legacy ? I was thankful for the fifty dollars, for it is very 
unpleasant to me to use any of Mr. Fitzgerald's money, 
though he tells Tom to supply everything I want. If it 
were not for you, dear friends, I don't think I should have 
courage to try to live. But something sustains me won- 
derfully through these dreadful trials. Sometimes I think 
poor Chloe's prayers bring me help from above ; for the 
good soul is always praying for me. 

" Adieu. May the good God bless you both. 

" Your loving and grateful 

* " Rosabella." 

Week passed after week, and the promised papers did 
not come. The weary days dragged their slow length 
along, unsoothed by anything except Tulee's loving care 
and Madame's cheering letters. The piano was never 
opened ; for all tones of music were draped in mourning, 
and its harmonies were a funeral march over buried love. 
But she enjoyed the open air and the fragrance of the 
flowers. Sometimes she walked slowly about the lawn, 
and sometimes Tulee set her upon Thistle's back, and led 
him round and round through the bridle-paths. But out 



of the woods that concealed their nest they never ventured, 
lest they should meet Mrs. Fitzgerald. Tulee, who was 
somewhat proud on her mistress's account, was vexed by 
this limitation. " I don't see why ye should hide yerself 
from her," said she. " Yese as good as she is ; and ye 've 
nothin' to be shamed of." 

" It is n't on my own account that I wish to avoid her 
seeing me," replied Rosa. " But I pity the innocent young 
creature. She did n't know of disturbing my happiness, 
and I should be sorry to disturb hers." 

As the weeks glided away without bringing any fulfil- 
ment of Fitzgerald's promise, anxiety changed to distrust. 
She twice requested Tom to ask his master for the papers 
he had spoken of, and received a verbal answer that they 
would be sent as soon as they were ready. There were 
greater obstacles in the way than she, in her inexperience, 
was aware of. The laws of Georgia restrained humane 
impulses by forbidding the manumission of a slave. Con- 
sequently, he must either incur very undesirable publicity 
by applying to the legislature for a special exception in this 
case, or she must be manumitted in another State. He 
would gladly have managed a journey without the company 
of his wife, if he could thereby have regained his former in- 
fluence with Rosa ; but he was disinclined to take so much 
trouble to free her entirely from him. When he promised 
to send the papers, he intended- to satisfy her with a sham 
certificate, as he had done with a counterfeit marriage ; but 
he deferred doing it, because he had a vague sense of satis- 
faction in being able to tantalize the superior woman over, 
whom he felt that he no longer had any other power. 



MADAME'S anxiety was much diminished after she 
began to receive letters in Rosa's own handwriting; 
but, knowing the laws of Georgia, and no longer doubtful 
concerning Fitzgerald's real character, she placed small re- 
liance upon his promise of manumission. " This is another 
of his deceptions," said she to the Signor. " I have been 
thinking a good deal about the state of things, and I am 
convinced there will be no security in this country for that 
poor girl. You have been saying for some time that you 
wanted to see your beautiful Italy again, and I have the 
same feeling about my beautiful France. We each of us 
have a little money laid up ; and if we draw upon the fund 
Mr. King has deposited, we can take Rosabella to Europe 
and bring her out as a singer." 

" She would have a great career, no doubt," replied the 
Signor ; " and I was going to suggest such a plan to you. 
But you would have to change your name again on my ac- 
count, Madame ; for I was obliged to leave Italy because I 
was discovered to be one of the Carbonari ; and though 
fifteen years have elapsed, it is possible the watchful au- 
thorities have not forgotten my name." 

" That 's a trifling obstacle," resumed Madame. " You 
had better give notice to your pupils at once that you in- 
tend to leave as soon as present engagements are fulfilled. 
I will use up my stock for fancy articles, and sell off as fast 
as possible, that we may be ready to start for Europe as soon 
as Rosa has sufficient strength." 


This resolution was immediately acted upon ; but the 
fates were unpropitious to Madame's anticipated visit to the 
lonely island. A few days before her intended departure, 
the Signor was taken seriously ill, and remained so for two 
or three weeks. He fretted and fumed, more on her ac- 
count than his own, but she, as usual, went through the 
trial bravely. She tried to compensate Rosa for the dis- 
appointment, as far as she could, by writing frequent let- 
ters, cheerful in tone, though prudently cautious concerning 
details. Fearing that Mr. Fitzgerald's suspicions might be 
excited by an apparent cessation of correspondence, she 
continued to write occasionally under cover to him, in a 
style adapted to his views, in case he should take a fancy 
to open the letters. The Signor laughed, and said, " Your 
talent for diplomacy is not likely to rust for want of use, 
Madame." Even Rosa, sad at heart as she was, could not 
help smiling sometimes at the totally different tone of the 
letters which she received under different covers. 

She had become so accustomed to passive endurance, 
that no murmur escaped her when she found that her only 
white friend could not come to her, as she had expected. 
Granny Nan boasted of having nursed many grand white 
ladies, and her skill in the vocation proved equal to her 
pretensions. Only her faithful Tulee and the kind old col- 
ored mammy were with her when, hovering between life 
and death, she heard the cry that announced the advent of 
a human soul. Nature, deranged by bodily illness and 
mental trouble, provided no nourishment for the little one ; 
but this, which under happier circumstances would have 
been & disappointment, called forth no expressions of regret 
from the patient sufferer. When Tulee held the babe be- 
fore her in its first dress, -she smiled faintly, but immedi- 


ately closed her eyes. As she lay there, day after day, 

with the helpless little creature nestling in her arms, the 
one consoling reflection was that she had not given birth to 
a daughter. A chaos of thoughts were revolving through 
her mind ; the theme of all the variations being how dif- 
ferent it was from what it might have been, if the ideal of 
her girlhood had not been shattered so cruelly. Had it 
not been for that glimmering light in the future which 
Madame so assiduously presented to her view, courage 
would have forsaken her utterly. As it was, she often lis- 
tened to the dash of the sea with the melancholy feeling 
that rest might be found beneath its waves. But she was 
still very young, the sky was bright, the earth was lovely, 
and she had a friend who had promised to provide a safe 
asylum for her somewhere. She tried to regain her 
strength, that she might leave the island, with ail its sad 
reminders of departed happiness. Thinking of this, she 
rose one day and wandered into the little parlor to take a 
sort of farewell look. There was the piano, so long un- 
opened, with a whole epic of love and sorrow in its remem- 
bered tones ; the pretty little table her mother had painted ; 
the basket she had received from her father after his 
death ; Floracita's paintings and mosses ; and innumerable 
little tokens of Gerald's love. Walking round slowly and 
feebly in presence of all those memories, how alone she 
felt, with none to speak to but Tulee and the old colored 
mammy, — she, who had been so tenderly cared for by her 
parents, so idolized by him to whom she gave her heart ! 
She was still gazing pensively on these souvenirs of the 
past, when her attention was arrested by Tom's voice, say- 
ing : " Dar ? s a picaninny at de Grat Hus. How 's turrer 
picaninny ? " 


The thought rushed upon her, " Ah, that baby had a 
father to welcome it and fondle it ; but my poor babe — " 
A sensation of faintness came over her ; and, holding on by 
the chairs and tables, she staggered back to the bed she 
had left. 

Before the babe was a fortnight old, Tom announced 
that he was to accompany his master to New Orleans, 
whither he had been summoned by business. The occa- 
sion was eagerly seized by Rosa to send a letter and some 
small articles to Madame and the Signor. Tulee gave him 
very particular directions how to find the house, and charged 
him over and over again to tell them everything. When 
she cautioned him not to let his master know that he car- 
ried anything, Tom placed his thumb on the tip of his nose, 
and moved the fingers significantly, saying : " Dis ere nig- 
ger ha'n't jus' wakum'd up. Bin wake mos' ob de time 
sense twar daylight." He foresaw it would be difficult to 
execute the commission he had undertaken ; for as a slave 
he of course had little control over his own motions. He, 
however, promised to try ; and Tulee told him she had 
great confidence in his ingenuity in finding out ways and 

" An' I tinks a heap o' ye, Tulee. Ye knows a heap 
more dan mos' niggers," was Tom's responsive compliment. 
In his eyes Tulee was in fact a highly accomplished per- 
son ; for though she could neither read nor write, she had 
caught the manners and speech of white people, by living 
almost exclusively with them, and she was, by habit, as 
familiar with French as English, beside having a little 
smattering of Spanish. To have his ingenuity praised by 
her operated as a fillip upon his vanity, and he inwardly 
resolved to run the risk of a flogging, rather than fail to do 


her bidding. He wa's also most loyal in the service of 
Rosa, whose beauty and kindliness had won his heart, be- 
fore his sympathy had been called out by her misfortunes. 
But none of them foresaw what important consequences 
would result from his mission. 

The first day he was in New Orleans, he found no hour 
when he could be absent without the liability of being 
called for by his master. The next day Mr. Bruteman 
dined with his master, and Tom was in attendance upon 
the table. Their conversation was at first about cotton 
crops, the prices of negroes, and other business matters, to 
w T hich Tom paid little attention. But a few minutes after- 
ward his ears were wide open. 

" I suppose you came prepared to pay that debt you 
owe me," said Mr. Bruteman. 

" I am obliged to ask an extension of your indulgence," 
replied Mr. Fitzgerald. " It is not in my power to raise 
that sum just now." 

" How is that possible," inquired Mr. Bruteman, "when 
you have married the daughter of a Boston nabob ? " 

"The close old Yankee keeps hold of most of his money 
while he lives," rejoined his companion ; " and Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald has expensive tastes to be gratified." 

" And do you expect me to wait till the old Yankee 
dies ?" asked Mr. Bruteman. " Gentlemen generally con- 
sider themselves bound to be prompt in paying debts of 

" I ? 11 pay you as soon as I can. What the devil can 
you ask more?" exclaimed Fitzgerald. "It seems to me 
it 's not the part of a gentleman to play the dun so con- 

They had already drank pretty freely ; but Mr. Brute- 


man took up a bottle, and said, "Let us drink another 
glass to the speedy replenishing of your purse." They 
poured full bumpers, touched glasses, and drank the con- 

There was a little pause, during which Mr. Bruteman 
sat twirling his glass between thumb and finger, with looks 
directed toward his companion. All at once he said, 
" Fitzgerald, did you ever find those handsome octoroon 
girls ? " 

" What octoroon girls ? " inquired the other. 

" O, you disremember them, do you ? " rejoined he. " I 
mean how did that bargain turn out that you made with 
Royal's creditors ? You seemed to have small chance of 
finding the girls ; unless, indeed, you hid them away first, 
for the purpose of buying them for less than half they 
would have brought to the creditors, — which, of course, is 
not to be supposed, because no gentleman would do such a 

Thrown off his guard by too much wine, Fitzgerald 
vociferated, " Do you mean to insinuate that I am no 
gentleman ? " 

Mr. Bruteman smiled, as he answered : " I said such a 
thing was not to be supposed. But come, Fitzgerald, let 
us understand one another. I 'd rather, a devilish sight, 
have those girls than the money you owe me. Make them 
over to me, and I '11 cancel the debt. Otherwise, I shall 
be under the necessity of laying an attachment on some of 
your property." 

There was a momentary silence before Mr. Fitzgerald 
answered, " One of them is dead." 

" Which one ? " inquired his comrade. 

" Flora, the youngest, was drowned." 


" And that queenly beauty, where is she ? I don't know 
that I ever heard her name." 

" Bosabella Royal," replied Fitzgerald. " She is living 
at a convenient distance from my plantation." 

"Well, I will be generous," said Bruteman. "If you 
will make her over to me, I will cancel the debt." 

" She is not in strong health at present," rejoined Fitz- 
gerald. " She has a babe about two weeks old." 

" You know you have invited me to visit your island two 
or three weeks hence," replied Bruteman ; " and then I 
shall depend upon you to introduce me to your fair Rosa- 
mond. But we will draw up the papers and sign them 
now, if you please." 

Some jests unfit for repetition were uttered by the cred- 
itor, to which the unhappy debtor made no reply. When 
he called Tom to bring paper and ink, the observing ser- 
vant noticed that he was very pale, though but a few mo- 
ments before his face had been flushed. 

That night, he tried to drown recollection in desperate 
gambling and frequent draughts of wine. Between one 
and two o'clock in the morning, his roisterous companions 
were led off by their servants, and he was put into bed by 
Tom, where he immediately dropped into a perfectly sense- 
less sleep. 

As soon as there was sufficient light, Tom started for the 
house of the Signor; judging that he was safe from his 
master for three hours at least. Notwithstanding the 
eaiiiness of the hour, Madame made her appearance in a 
very few moments after her servant informed her who was 
in waiting, and the Signor soon followed. In the course 
of the next hour and a half an incredible amount of talk- 
ing was done in negro u lingo " and broken English. The 

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impetuous Signor strode up and down, clenching his fists, 
cursing slavery, and sending Fitzgerald to the Devil in a 
volley of phrases hard enough in their significance, though 
uttered in soft-flowing Italian. 

"Swearing does no good, my friend," said Madame; "be- 
sides, there is n't time for it. Rosabella must be brought 
away immediately. Bruteman will be on the alert, you 
may depend. She slipped through his fingers once, and v he , 
won't trust Fitzgerald again." 

The Signor cooled down, and proposed to go for her 
himself. But that was overruled, in a very kind way, by 
his prudent w T ife, who argued that he was not well enough 
for such an exciting adventure, or to be left without her 
nursing, when his mind would be such a prey to uneasi- 
ness. It was her proposition to send at once for her 
cousin Duroy, and have him receive very particular direc- 
tions from Tom how to reach the island and find the cot- 
tage. Tom said he did n't know whether he could get 
away for an hour again, because his master was always 
very angry if he was out of the way when called ; but if 
Mr. Duroy would come to the hotel, he would find chances 
to tell him what to do. And that plan was immediately 
carried into effect. 

While these things were going on in New Orleans, Mrs. 
Fitzgerald was taking frequent drives about the lovely 
island with her mother, Mrs. Bell ; while Rosa was occa- 
sionally perambulating her little circuit of woods on the 
back of patient Thistle. One day Mrs. Fitzgerald and her 
mother received an invitation to the Welby plantation, to 
meet some Northern acquaintances who were there ; and , 
as Mrs. Fitzgerald's strength was not yet fully restored, 
Mrs. Welby proposed that they should remain all night. 


Chloe, who had lost her own baby, was chosen to nurse her 
master's new-born heir, and was consequently tied so closely 
that she could find no chance to go to the cottage, whose 
inmates she had a great longing to see. But when master 
and mistress were both gone, she thought she might take 
her freedom for a while without incurring any great risk. 
The other servants agreed to keep her secret, and Joe the 
coachman promised to drive her most of the way when he 
came back with the carriage. Accordingly, she made her 
appearance at the cottage quite unexpectedly, to the great 
joy of Tulee. 

When she unwrapped the little black-haired baby from 
its foldings of white muslin, Tulee exclaimed : " He looks 
jus' like his good-for-nothing father ; and so does Missy 
Rosy ? s baby. I 'm 'fraid 't will make poor missy feel bad 
to see it, for she don't know nothin' 'bout it." 

" Yes I do, Tulee," said Rosa, who had heard Chloe's 
voice, and gone out to greet her. " I heard Tom tell you 
about it." 

She took up the little hand, scarcely bigger than a 
bird's claw, and while it twined closely about her finger, 
she looked into its eyes, so like to Gerald's in shape and 
color. She was hoping that those handsome eyes might 
never be used as his had been, but she gave no utter- 
ance to her thoughts. Her manner toward Chloe was 
full of grateful kindness : and the poor bondwoman had 
some happy hours, playing free for a while. She laid the 
infant on its face in her lap, trotting it gently, and patting 
its back, while she talked over with Tulee all the affairs at 
the " Grat Hus." And when the babe was asleep, she 
asked and obtained Rosa's permission to lay him on her bed 
beside his little brother. Then poor Chloe's soul took 


winsr and soared aloft among sun-lighted clouds. As she 
prayed, and sang her fervent hymns, and told of her visions 
and revelations, she experienced satisfaction similar to that 
of a troubadour, or palmer from Holy Land, with an ad- 
miring audience listening to his wonderful adventures. 

While she was thus occupied, Tulee came in hastily to 
say that a stranger gentleman was coming toward the 
house. Such an event in that lonely place produced gen 
eral excitement, and some consternation. Rosa at once 
drew her curtain and bolted the door. But Tulee soon 
came rapping gently, saying, " It 's only I, Missy Rosy." 
As the door partially opened, she said, " It 's a friend 
Madame has sent ye." Rosa, stepping forward, recognized 
Mr. Duroy, the cousin in whose clothes Madame had es- 
caped with them from New Orleans. She was very 
slightly acquainted with him, but it was such a comfort to 
see any one who knew of the old times that she could 
hardly refrain from throwing herself on his neck and burst- 
ing into tears. As she grasped his hand with a close pres- 
sure, he felt the thinness of her emaciated fingers. The 
paleness of her cheeks, and the saddened expression of her 
large eyes, excited his compassion. He was too polite to 
express it in words, but it was signified by the deference 
of his manner and the extreme gentleness of his tones. 
He talked of Madame's anxious love for her, of the Signor's 
improving health, of the near completion of their plan for 
going to Europe, and of their intention to take her with 
them. Rosa was full of thankfulness, but said she was as 
yet incapable of much exertion. Mr. Duroy went on to 
speak of Tom's visit to Madame ; and slowly and cau- 
tiously he prepared the way for his account of the conver- 
sation between Mr. Fitzgerald and Mr. Bruteman. But 


careful as he was, he noticed that her features tightened 
and her hands were clenched. When he came to the inter- 
change of writings, she sprung to her feet, and, clutching 
his arm convulsively, exclaimed, " Did he do that ? " Her 
eyes were like a flame, and her chest heaved with the 
quick-coming breath. 

He sought to draw her toward him, saying in soothing 
tones, " They shall not harm you, my poor girl. Trust to 
me, as if I were your father." But she burst from him 
impetuously, and walked up and down rapidly ; such a 
sudden access of strength had the body received from the 
frantic soul. 

" Try not to be so much agitated," said he. " In a very 
short time you will be in Europe, and then you will be 
perfectly safe." 

She paused an instant in her walk, and, with a strange 
glare in her eyes, she hissed out, " I hate him." 

Pie laid his hand gently upon her shoulder, and said : " I 
want very much that you should try to be calm. Some 
negroes are coming with a boat at daybreak, and it is 
necessary we should all go away with them. You ought 
to rest as much as possible beforehand." 

" Rest ! " repeated she with bitter emphasis. And 
clenching her teeth hard, she again said, " I hate him ! " 

Poor Rosa ! It had taken a mountain-weight of wrong 
so to crush out all her gentleness. 

Mr. Duroy became somewhat alarmed. He hastened to 
the kitchen and told Chloe to go directly to Miss Rosa. 
He then briefly explained his errand to Tulee, and told her 
to prepare for departure as fast as possible. " But first go 
to your mistress," said he ; " for I am afraid she may 
go crazy." 


The sufferer yielded more readily to Tulee's accustomed 
influence than she had done to that of Mr. Duroy. She 
allowed herself to be laid upon the bed ; but while her fore- 
head and temples were being bathed, her heart beat vio- 
lently, and all her pulses were throbbing. It was, however, 
necessary to. leave her with Chloe, who knelt by the bed- 
side, holding her hand, and praying in tones unusually low 
for her. 

"I'm feared for her," said Tulee to Mr. Duroy. "I 
never see Missy Rosy look so wild and strange." 

A short time after, when she looked into the room, Rosa's 
eyes were closed. She whispered to Chloe : " Poor Missy 's 
asleep. You can come and help me a little now." 

But Rosa was not in the least drowsy. She had only 
remained still, to avoid being talked to. As soon as her 
attendants had withdrawn, she opened her eyes, and, turn- 
ing toward the babes, she gazed upon them for a long 
time. There they lay side by side, like twin kittens. 
But ah ! thought she, how different is their destiny ! One 
is born to be cherished and waited upon all his days, the 
other is an outcast and a slave. My poor fatherless babe ! 
He wouldn't manumit us. It was not thoughtlessness. 
He meant to sell us. " He meant to sell us," she re- 
peated aloud ; and again the wild, hard look came into her 
eyes. Such a tempest was raging in her soul, that she felt 
as if she could kill him if he stood before her. This sav- 
age paroxysm of revenge was followed by thoughts of sui- 
cide. She was *about to rise, but hearing the approach of 
Tulee, she closed her eyes and remained still. 

Language is powerless to describe the anguish of that 
lacerated soul. At last the storm subsided, and she fell 
into a heavy sleep. 


Meanwhile the two black women were busy with ar- 
rangements for the early flight. Many things had been 
already prepared with the expectation of a summons to 
New Orleans, and not long after midnight all was in readi- 
ness. Chloe, after a sound nap on the kitchen floor, rose 
up with the first peep of light. She and Tulee hugged each 
other, with farewell kisses and sobs. She knelt by Rosa's 
bedside to whisper a brief prayer, and, giving her one long, 
lingering look, she took up her baby, and set off for the 
plantation, wondering at the mysterious ways of Providence. 

They deferred waking Rosa as long as possible, and when 
they roused her, she had been so deeply sunk in slumber 
that she was at first bewildered. When recollection re- 
turned, she looked at her babe. " Where 's Chloe ? " she 

" Gone back to the plantation," was the reply. 

" O, I am so sorry ! " sighed Rosa. 

" She was feared they would miss her," rejoined Tulee. 
"So she w r ent away as soon as she could see. But she 
prayed for ye, Missy Rosy ; and she told me to say poor 
Chloe would never forget ye." 

" O, I 'm so sorry ! " repeated Rosa, mournfully. 

She objected to taking the nourishment Tulee offered, 
saying she wanted to die. But Mr. Duroy reminded her 
that Madame was longing to see her, and she yielded to that 
plea. When Tulee brought the same travelling-dress in 
which she had first come to the cottage, she shrunk from it at 
first, but seemed to remember immediately that she ought 
not to give unnecessary trouble to her friends. While she 
was putting it on, Tulee said, " I tried to remember to put 
up everything ye would want, darling." 

" I don't want a^thing," she replied listlessly. Then, 


looking up suddenly, with that same wild, hard expression, 
she added, " Don't let me ever see anything that came from 
Mm ! " She spoke so sternly, that Tulee, for the first time 
in her life, was a little afraid of her. 

The eastern sky was all of a saffron glow, but the golden 
edge of the sun had not yet appeared above the horizon, 
when they entered the boat which was to convey them to 
the main-land. Without one glance toward the beautiful 
island where she had enjoyed and suffered so much, the un- 
happy fugitive nestled close to Tulee, and hid her face on 
her shoulder, as if she had nothing else in the world to 

cling to. 

# # # * # 

A week later, a carriage stopped before Madame's door, 
and Tulee rushed in with the baby on her shoulder, ex- 
claiming, " Nous void ! " while Mr. Duroy was helping 
Rosa to alight. Then such huggings and kissings, such 
showers of French from Madame, and of mingled French 
and Italian from the Signor, while Tulee stood by, throwing 
up her hand, and exclaiming, " Bless the Lord ! bless the 
Lord ! " The parrot listened with ear upturned, and a 
lump of sugar in her claw, then overtopped all their voices 
with the cry of " Bon jour, Rosabella! je suis enchantee." 

This produced a general laugh, and there was the faint 
gleam of a smile on Rosa's face, as she looked up at the 
cage and said, " Bon jour, jolie Manon I " But she soon 
sank into a chair with an expression of weariness. 

" You are tired, darling," said Madame, as she took off 
her bonnet and tenderly put back the straggling hair. 
" No wonder, after all you have gone through, my poor 

Rosa clasped her round the neck, and murmured, " 
my dear friend, I am tired, so tired ! " 


Madame led her to the settee, and arranged her head 
comfortably on its pillows. Then, giving her a motherly 
kiss, she said, " Rest, darling, while Tulee and I look after 
the boxes." 

When they had all passed into another room, she threw 
up her hands and exclaimed : " How she 's -changed ! How 
thin and pale she is ! How large her eyes look ! But 
she 's beautiful as an angel." 

"I never see Missy Rosy but once when she wasn't 
beautiful as an angel," said Tulee ; " and that was the night 
Massa Duroy told her she was sold to Massa Bruteman. 
Then she looked as if she had as many devils as that Mary 
Magdalene Massa Royal used to read about o' Sundays." 

" No wonder, poor child ! " exclaimed Madame. "But 
I hope the little one is some comfort to her." 

" She haVt taken much notice of him, or anything 
else, since Massa Duroy told her that news," rejoined 

Madame took the baby and tried to look into its face as 
well as the lopping motions of its little head would permit. 
" I should n't think she 'd have much comfort in looking at 
it," said she ; " for it 's the image of its father ; but the poor 
little dear ain't to blame for that." 

An animated conversation followed concerning what had 
happened since Tulee went away, — especially the disap- 
pearance of Flora. Both hinted at having entertained 
similar suspicions, but both had come to the conclusion that 
she could not be alive, or she would have written. 

Rosa, meanwhile, left alone in the little parlor, where 
she had listened so anxiously for the whistling of Ga ira, 
was scarcely conscious of any other sensation than the lux- 
ury of repose, after extreme fatigue of body and mind* 



There was, indeed, something pleasant in the familiar sur- 
roundings. The parrot swung in the same gilded ring in 
her cage. Madame's table, with its basket of chenilles, 
stood in the same place, and by it was her enamelled snuff- 
box. Rosa recognized a few articles that had been pur- 
chased at the auction of her father's furniture ; — his arm- 
chair, and the astral lamp by which he used to sit to read 
his newspaper ; a sewing-chair that was her mother's ; and 
one of Flora's embroidered slippers, hung up for a watch- 
case. With these memories floating before her drowsy 
eyes, she fell asleep, and slept for a long time. As her 
slumbers grew lighter, dreams of father, mother, and sister 
passed through various changes ; the last of which was that 
Flora was puzzling the mocking-birds. She waked to the 
consciousness that some one was whistling in the room. 

" Who is that ! " exclaimed she ; and the parrot replied 
with a tempest of imitations. Madame, hearing the noise, 
came in, saying : " How stupid I was not to cover the 
cage ! She is so noisy ! Her memory is wonderful. I 
don't think she '11 ever forget a note of all the melange 
dear Floracita took so much pains to teach her." 

She began to call up reminiscences of Flora's incessant 
mischief; but finding Rosa in no mood for anything gay, 
she proceeded to talk over the difficulties of her position, 
concluding with the remark : " To-day and to-night you 
must rest, my child. But early to-morrow you and the 
Signor will start for New York, whence you will take pas- 
sage to Marseilles, under the name of Signor Balbino and 

" I wish I could stay here, at least for a little while," 
sighed Rosa. 

" It 's never wise to wish for what cannot be had," re- 


joined Madame. " It would cause great trouble and ex- 
pense to obtain your freedom ; and it is doubtful whether 
we could secure it at all, for Bruteman won't give you up 
if he can avoid it. The voyage will recruit your strength, 
and it will do you good to be far away from anything that 
reminds you of old troubles. I have nothing left to do but 
to dispose of my furniture, and settle about the lease of 
this house. You will wait at Marseilles for me. I shall 
be uneasy till I have the sea between me and the agents of 
Mr. Bruteman, and I shall hurry to follow after you as 
soon as possible." 

" And Tulee and the baby ? " asked Rosa. 

"'Yes, with Tulee and the baby," replied Madame. 
" But I shall send them to my cousin's to-morrow, to be 
out of the way of being seen by the neighbors. He lives 
off the road, and three miles out. They '11 be nicely out 
of the way there." 

It was all accomplished as the energetic Frenchwoman 
had planned. Rosa was whirled away, without time to 
think of anything. At parting, she embraced Tulee, and 
looked earnestly in the baby's face, while she stroked his 
shining black hair. " Good by, dear, kind Tulee," said 
she. " Take good care of the little one." 

At Philadelphia, her strength broke down, and they were 
detained three days. Consequently, when they arrived in 
New York, they found that the Mermaid, in which they 
expected to take passage, had sailed. The Signor consid- 
ered it imprudent to correspond with his wife on the sub- 
ject, and concluded to go out of the city and wait for 
the next vessel. When they went on board, they found 
Madame, and explained to her the circumstances. 

" I am glad I did n't know of the delay," said she ; " for 


I was frightened enough as it was. But, luckily, I got off 
without anybody's coming to make inquiries." 

" But where are Tulee and the baby? Are they down 
below ? " asked Rosa. 

" No, dear, I did n't bring them." 

" O, how came you to leave them ? " said Rosa. " Some- 
thing will happen to them." 

" I have provided well for their safety," rejoined Ma- 
dame. " The reason I did it was this. We have no cer- 
tain home or prospects at present ; and I thought we had 
better be settled somewhere before the baby was brought. 
My cousin is coming to Marseilles in about three months, 
and he will bring them with him. His wife was glad to 
give Tulee her board, meanwhile, for what work she could 
do. I really think it was best, clear. The feeble little thing 
will be stronger for the voyage by that time ; and you 
know Tulee will take just as good care of it as if it were 
her own." 

" Poor Tulee ! " sighed Rosa. " Was she willing to be 

" She did n't know when I came away," replied Madame. 

Rosa heaved an audible groan, as she said : " I am so 
sorry you did this, Madame ! If anything should happen to 
them, it would be a weight on my mind as long as I live." 

"I did what I thought was for the best," answered 
Madame. " I was in such a hurry to get away, on your 
account, that, if I had n't all my wits about me, I hope you 
will excuse me. But I think myself I made the best ar- 

Rosa, perceiving a slight indication of pique in her tone, 
hastened to kiss her, and call her her best and dearest 
friend. But in her heart she mourned over what she con- 


sidered, for the first time in her life, a great mistake in the 
management of Madame. 

# * * * * 

After Tom's return from New Orleans, he continued to 
go to the cottage as usual, and so long as no questions were 
asked, he said nothing ; but when his master inquired how 
they were getting on there, he answered that Missy Rosy 
was better. When a fortnight had elapsed, he thought the 
fugitives must be out of harm's way, and he feared Mr. 
Bruteman might be coming soon to claim his purchase. 
Accordingly he one day informed his master, with a great 
appearance of astonishment and alarm, that the cottage was 
shut up, and all the inmates gone. 

Fitzgerald's first feeling was joy ; for he was glad to be 
relieved from the picture of Rosa's horror and despair, 
which had oppressed him like the nightmare. But he 
foresaw that Bruteman would suspect him of having fore- 
warned her, though he had solemnly pledged himself not 
to do so. He immediately wrote him the tidings, with ex- 
pressions of surprise and regret. The answer he received 
led to a duel, in which he received a wound in the shoul- 
der, that his wife always supposed was occasioned by a 
fall from his horse. 

When Mr. Bruteman ascertained that Madame and the 
Signor had left the country, he at once conjectured that the 
fugitive was with them. Having heard that Mr. Duroy 
was a relative, he waited upon him, at his place of busi- 
ness, and was informed that Rosabella Royal had sailed for 
France, with his cousin, in the ship Mermaid. Not long 
after, it was stated in the ship news that the Mermaid 
had foundered at sea, and all on board were lost. 



WHILE Rosabella had been passing through these 
dark experiences, Flora was becoming more and 
more accustomed to her new situation. She strove bravely 
to conceal the homesickness which she could not always 
conquer ; but several times, in the course of their travels, 
Mrs. Delano noticed moisture gathering on her long black 
eyelashes when she saw the stars and stripes floating 
from the mast of a vessel. Once, when a rose was given 
her, she wept outright ; but she soon wiped her eyes, and 
apologized by saying : ? I wonder whether a Pensee - Vivace 
makes Rosa feel as I do when I see a rose ? But what an 
ungrateful child I am, when I have such a dear, kind, new 
Mamita ! " And a loving smile again lighted up her swim- 
ming eyes, — those beautiful April eyes of tears and sun- 
shine, that made rainbows in the heart. 

Mrs. Delano wisely kept her occupied with a succession 
of teachers and daily excursions. Having a natural genius 
for music and drawing, she made rapid progress in both 
during a residence of six months in England, six months 
in France, and three months in Switzerland. And as Mr. 
and Mrs. Percival were usually with them, she picked up, 
in her quick way, a good degree of culture from the daily 
tone of conversation. The one drawback to the pleasure of 
new acquisitions was that she could not share them with 

One day, when she was saying this, Mrs. Delano re- 
plied : " We will go to Italy for a short time, and then 


we will return to live in Boston. I have talked the mat- 
ter over a good deal with Mr. Percival, and I think I 
should know how to guard against any contingency that 
may occur. And as you are so anxious about your sister, 
I have been revolving plans for taking you back to the 
island, to see whether we can ascertain what is going on in 
that mysterious cottage. " 

From that time there was a very perceptible increase of 
cheerfulness in Flora's spirits. The romance of such an 
adventure hit her youthful fancy, while the idea of getting 
even a sly peep at Rosa filled her with delight. She im- 
agined all sorts of plans to accomplish this object, and of- 
ten held discussions upon the propriety of admitting Tulee 
to their confidence. 

Her vivacity redoubled when they entered Italy. She 
was herself composed of the same materials of which Italy 
was made ; and without being aware of the spiritual rela- 
tionship, she at once felt at home there. She was charmed 
with the gay, impulsive people, the bright costumes, the 
impassioned music, and the flowing language. The clear, 
intense blue of the noonday sky, and the sun setting in a 
glowing sea of amber, reminded her of her Southern home ; 
and the fragrance of the orange-groves was as incense 
waved by the memory of her childhood. The ruins of 
Rome interested her less than any other features of the 
landscape ; for, like Bettini, she never asked who any of 
the ancients were, for fear they would tell her. The play 
of sunshine on the orange-colored lichens interested her 
more than the inscriptions they covered ; and while their 
guide was telling the story of mouldering arches, she was 
looking through them at the clear blue sky and the soft 
outline of the hills. 


One morning they rode out early to spend a whole day 
at Albano ; and every mile of the ride presented her with 
some charming novelty. The peasants who went dancing 
by in picturesque costumes, and the finely formed women 
walking erect with vases of water on their heads, or draw- 
ing an even thread from their distaffs, as they went singing 
along, furnished her memory with subjects for many a 
picture. Sometimes her exclamations would attract the 
attention of a group of dancers, who, pleased with an exu- 
berance of spirits akin to their own, and not unmindful of 
forthcoming coin, would beckon to the driver to stop, while 
they repeated their dances for the amusement of the Sig- 
norina. A succession of pleasant novelties awaited her at 
Albano. Running about among the ilex-groves in search 
of bright mosses, she would come suddenly in front of an 
elegant villa, with garlands in stucco, and balconies grace- 
fully draped with vines. Wandering away from that, she 
would utter a little cry of joy at the unexpected sight of 
some reclining marble nymph, over which a little fountain 
threw a transparent veil of gossamer sparkling with dia- 
monds. Sometimes she stood listening to the gurgling and 
dripping of unseen waters ; and sometimes melodies floated 
from the distance, which her quick ear caught at once, and 
her tuneful voice repeated like a mocking-bird. The child- 
like zest with which she entered into everything, and made 
herself a part of everything, amused her quiet friend, and 
gave her even more pleasure than the beauties of the land- 

After a picnic repast, they ascended Monte Cavo, and 
looked down on the deep basins of the lakes, once blaz- 
ing with volcanic fire, now full of water blue as the sky 
it reflected ; like human souls in which the passions have 


burned out, and left them calm recipients of those di- 
vine truths in which the heavens are mirrored. As Mrs. 
Delano pointed out various features in the magnificent 
panorama around them, she began to tell Flora of scenes 
in the ^ZEneid with which they were intimately connected. 
The young girl, who was serious for the moment, dropped 
on the grass to listen, with elbows on her friend's lap, and 
her upturned face supported by her hands. But the lec- 
ture was too grave for her mercurial spirit ; and she soon 
sprang up, exclaiming : " O Mamita Lila, all those people 
were dead and buried so long ago ! I don't believe the 
princess that JEneas was fighting about was half as hand- 
some as that dancing Contadina from Frascati, with a scar- 
let bodice and a floating veil fastened among her black 
braids with a silver arrow. How her eyes sparkled, and 
her cheeks glowed ! And the Contadino who was dancing 
with her, with those long streamers of red ribbon flying 
round his peaked hat, he looked almost as handsome as she 
did. How I wish I could see them dance the saltarello 
again ! O Mamita Lila, as soon as we get back to Rome, 
do buy a tambourine." Inspired by the remembrance, she 
straightway began to hum the monotonous tune of that 
grasshopper dance, imitating the hopping steps and the 
quick jerks of the arms, marking the time with ever-in- 
creasing rapidity on her left hand, as if it were a tambou- 
rine. She was so aglow with the exercise, and so graceful 
in 'her swift motions, that Mrs. Delano watched her with 
admiring smiles. But when the extempore entertainment 
came to a close, she thought to herself: "It is a hopeless 
undertaking to educate her after the New England pattern. 
One might as well try to plough with a butterfly, as tc 
teach her ancient history." 



When they had wandered about a little while longer, 
happy as souls newly arrived in the Elysian Fields, Mrs. 
Delano said : " My child, you have already gathered mosses 
enough to fill the carriage, and it is time for us to return. 
You know twilight passes into darkness very quickly here." 

" Just let me gather this piece of golden lichen," pleaded 
she. " It will look so pretty among the green moss, in the 
cross I am going to make you for Christmas." 

When all her multifarious gleanings were gathered up, 
they lingered a little to drink in the beauty of the scene be- 
fore them. In the distance was the Eternal City, girdled by 
hills that stood out with wonderful distinctness in the lumi- 
nous atmosphere of that brilliant day, which threw a golden 
veil over all its churches, statues, and ruins. Before they had 
gone far on their homeward ride, all things passed through 
magical changes. The hills were seen in vapory visions, 
shifting their hues with opaline glances ; and over the green, 
billowy surface of the broad Campagna was settling a pris- 
matic robe of mist, changing from rose to violet. Earth 
seemed to be writing, in colored notes, with tenderest modu- 
lations, her farewell hymn to the departing God of Light. 
And the visible music soon took voice in the vibration of 
vesper-bells, in the midst of which they entered Rome. 
Flora, who was sobered by the solemn sounds and the dark- 
ening landscape, scarcely spoke, except to remind Mrs. 
Delano of the tambourine as they drove through the 
crowded Corso ; and when they entered their lodgings in 
Yia delle Quattro Fontane, she passed to her room without 
any of her usual skipping and singing. When they met 
again at supper her friend said : " Why so serious ? Is my 
little one tired ? " 

" I have been thinking, Mamita, that something is going 


to happen to me," she replied ; " for always when I am very 
merry something happens." 

" I should think something would happen very often 
then," rejoined Mrs. Delano with a smile, to which she re- 
sponded with her ready little laugh. " Several visitors 
called while we were gone," said Mrs. Delano. " Our rich 
Boston friend, Mr. Green, has left his card. He follows us 
very diligently." She looked at Flora as she spoke ; but 
though the light from a tall lamp fell directly on her face, 
she saw no emotion, either of pleasure or embarrassment. 
She merely looked up with a smile, as she remarked : 
" He always seems to be going round very leisurely in 
search of something to entertain him. I wonder whether 
he has found it yet." 

Though she was really tired with the exertions of the 
day, the sight of the new tambourine, after supper, proved 
too tempting ; and she w r as soon practising the saltarello 
again, with an agility almost equal to that of the nimble 
Contadina from whom she had learned it. She was whirl- 
ing round more and more swiftly, as if fatigue were a thing 
impossible to her, when Mr. Green was announced ; and a 
very stylishly dressed gentleman, with glossy shirt-bosom 
and diamond studs, entered the room. She had had scarcely 
time to seat herself, and her face was still flushed with ex- 
ercise, while her dimples were revealed by a sort of shy 
smile at the consciousness of having been so nearly caught 
in her rompish play by such an exquisite. The glowing 
cheek and the dimpling smile were a new revelation to Mr. 
Green ; for he had never interested her sufficiently to call 
out the vivacity which rendered her so charming. 

Mrs. Delano noticed his glance of admiration, and the 
thought occurred, as it had often done before, what an em- 


barrassing dilemma she would be in, if lie should propose 
marriage to her protegee* 

" I called this morning," said he, " and found you had 
gone to Albano. I was tempted to follow, but thought it 
likely I should miss you. It is a charming drive."** 

" Everything is charming here, I think," rejoined Flora. 

u Ah, it is the first time you have seen Rome," said he. 
" I envy you the freshness of your sensations. This is the 
third time I have been here, and of course it palls a little 
upon me." 

" Why don't you go to some new place then ? " inquired 

"Where is there any new place?" responded he lan- 
guidly. " To be sure, there is Arabia Petr«3a, but the ac- 
commodations are not good. Besides, Rome has attractions 
for me at present ; and I really think I meet more acquaint- 
ances here than I should at home. Rome is beginning to 
swarm with Americans, especially with Southerners. One 
can usually recognize them at a glance by their unmistak- 
able air of distinction. They are obviously of porcelain 
clay, as Willis says." 

" I think our New England Mr. Percival is as pol- 
ished a gentleman as any I have seen," observed Mrs. 

" He is a gentleman in manners and attainments, I ad- 
mit," replied Mr. Green ; " but with his family and educa- 
tion, what a pity it is he has so disgraced himself." 

" Pray what has he done ? " inquired the lady. 

" Did n't you know he was an Abolitionist ? " rejoined 
Mr. Green. " It is a fact that he has actually spoken at 
their meetings. I was surprised to see him travelling with 
you in England. It must be peculiarly irritating to the 


South to see a man of his position siding with those vulgar 
agitators. Really, unless something effectual can be done 
to stop that frenzy, I fear Southern gentlemen will be un- 
able to recover a fugitive slave." 

Flora looked at Mrs. "Delano with a furtive, side way 
glance, and a half-smile on her lips. Her impulse was to 
jump up, dot one of her quick courtesies, and say: "I am 
a fugitive slave. Please, sir, don't give me up to any of 
those distinguished gentlemen." 

Mr. Green noticed her glance, and mistook it for distaste 
of his theme. " Pardon me, ladies," said he, " for intro- 
ducing a subject tabooed in polite society. I called for a 
very different purpose. One novelty remains for me in 
Pome. I have never seen the statues of the Vatican by 
torchlight. Some Americans are forming a party for that 
purpose to-morrow evening, and if you would like to join 
them, it will give me great pleasure to be your escort." 

Flora, being appealed to, expressed acquiescence, and 
Mrs. Delano replied : " We will accept your invitation with 
pleasure. I have a great predilection for sculpture." 

" Finding myself so fortunate in one request encourages 
me to make another," rejoined Mr. Green. " On the even- 
ing following Norma is to be brought out, with a new 
'prima donna, from whom great things are expected. I 
should be much gratified if you would allow me to procure 
tickets and attend upon you." 

Flora's face lighted up at once. u I see what my mu- 
sical daughter wishes," said Mrs. Delano. " We will there- 
fore lay ourselves under obligations to you for two evenings' 

The gentleman, having expressed his thanks, bade them 
good evening. 


Flora woke up the next morning full of pleasant antici- 
pations. When Mrs. Delano looked in upon her, she found 
her already dressed, and busy with a sketch of the dancing 
couple from Fraseati. " I cannot make them so much alive 
as I wish," said she, " because they are not in motion. No 
picture can give the gleamings of the arrow or the whirl* 
ino's of the veil. I wish we could dress like Italians. How 
I should like to wear a scarlet bodice, and a veil fastened 
with a silver arrow." 

" If we remained till Carnival, you might have that 
pleasure," replied Mrs. Delano ; " for everybody masquer- 
ades as they like at that time. But I imagine you would 
hardly fancy my appearance in scarlet jacket, with laced 
sleeves, big coral necklace, and long ear-rings, like that old 
Contadina we met riding on a donkey." 

Flora laughed. " To think of Mamita Lila in such cos- 
tume ! " exclaimed she. " The old Contadina would make 
a charming picture ; but a picture of the Campagna, sleepy 
with purple haze, would be more like you." 

" Am I then so sleepy ? " inquired her friend. 

" G, no, not sleepy. You know I don't mean that. But 
so quiet ; and always with some sort of violet or lilac cloud 
for a dress. But here comes Carlina to call us to break- 
fast," said she, as she laid down her crayon, and drummed 
the saltarello on her picture while she paused a moment to 
look at it. 

As Mrs. Delano wished to write letters, and Flora ex- 
pected a teacher in drawing, it was decided that they should 
remain at home until the hour arrived for visiting the Vati- 
can. " We have been about sights-seeing so much," said 
Mrs. Delano, " that I think it will be pleasant to have a 
quiet day." Flora assented; but as Mrs. Delano wrote, 


she could not help smiling at her ideas of quietude. Some- 
times rapid thumps on the tambourine might be heard, in- 
dicating that the saltarello was again in rehearsal. If a 
piffero strolled through the street, the monotonous drone of 
his bagpipe was reproduced in most comical imitation ; and 
anon there was a gush of bird-songs, as if a whole aviary 
were in the vicinity. Indeed, no half-hour passed without 
audible indication that the little recluse was in merry mood. 

At the appointed time Mr. Green came to conduct them 
to the Vatican. They ascended the wide slopes, and passed 
through open courts into long passages lined with statues, 
and very dimly lighted with occasional lamps. Here and 
there a marble figure was half revealed, and looked so 
spectral in the gloaming that they felt as if they were en- 
tering the world of spirits. Several members of the party 
preceded them, and all seemed to feel the hushing influence, 
for they passed on in silence, and stepped softly as they 
entered the great Palace of Art. The torch-bearers were 
soon in readiness to illuminate the statues, which they did 
by holding a covered light over each, making it stand out 
alone in the surrounding darkness, with very striking effects 
of light and shadow. Flora, who was crouched on a low 
seat by the side of Mrs. Delano, gazed with a reverent, 
half-afraid feeling on the thoughtful, majestic looking Mi- 
nerva Medica. When the graceful vision of Venus Ana- 
dyomene was revealed, she pressed her friend's hand, and 
the pressure was returned. But when the light was held 
over a beautiful Cupid, the face looked out from the 
gloom with such an earnest, childlike expression, that she 
forgot the presence of strangers, and impulsively exclaimed, 
" Mamita, how lovely ! " 

A gentleman some little distance in front of them turned 


toward them suddenly, at the sound of her voice ; and a 
movement of the torch-bearer threw the light full upon 
him for an instant. Flora hid her face in the lap of Mrs. 
Delano, who attributed the quick action to her shame at 
having spoken so audibly. But placing her hand caress- 
ingly on her shoulder, she felt that she was trembling vio- 
lently. She stooped toward her, and softly inquired, " What 
is the matter, dear ? " 

Flora seized her head with both hands, and, drawing it 
closer, whispered : " Take me home, Mamita ! Do take me 
right home ! " 

Wondering what sudden caprice had seized the emotional 
child, she said, " Why, are you ill, dear ? " 

Flora whispered close into her ear : " No, Mamita. But 
Mr. Fitzgerald is here." 

Mrs. Delano rose very quietly, and, approaching Mr. 
Green, said : " My daughter is not well, and we wish to 
leave. But I beg you will return as soon as you have 
conducted us to the carriage." 

But though he was assured by both the ladies that noth- 
ing alarming was the matter, when they arrived at their 
lodgings he descended from the driver's seat to assist them 
in alighting. Mrs. Delano, with polite regrets at having 
thus disturbed his pleasure, thanked him, and bade him 
good evening. She hurried after Flora, whom she found 
in her room, weeping bitterly. " Control your feelings, my 
child," said she. " You are perfectly safe here in Italy j| 

" But if he saw me, it will make it so very unpleasant 
for you, Mamita." 

" He could n't see you ; for we were sitting in very deep 
shadow," replied Mrs. Delano. " But even if he had seen 
you, I should know how to protect you." 


* But what I am thinking of," said Floracita, still, weep- 
ing, " is that he may have brought Rosa with him, and I 
can't run to her this very minute. I must see her! I will 
see her ! If I have to tell ever so many Jibititas about the 
reason of my running away." 

" I would n't prepare any Jibititas at present," rejoined 
Mrs. Delano. " I always prefer the truth. I will send for 
Mr. Percival, and ask him to ascertain whether Mr. Fitz- 
gerald brought a lady with him. Meanwhile, you had bet- 
ter lie down, and keep as quiet as you can. As soon as I 
obtain any information, I will come and tell you." 

When Mr. Percival was informed of the adventure at 
the Vatican, he sallied forth to examine the lists of arri- 
vals ; and before long he returned with the statement that 
Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald were registered among the new- 
comers. " Flora would, of course, consider that conclu- 
sive," said he ; " but you and I, who have doubts concern- 
ing that clandestine marriage, will deem it prudent to 
examine further." 

" If it should prove to be her sister, it will be a very 
embarrassing affair," rejoined Mrs. Delano. 

Mr. Percival thought it very unlikely, but said he would 
ascertain particulars to-morrow. 

With that general promise, without a knowledge of the 
fact already discovered, Flora retired to rest ; but it was 
nearly morning before she slept. 




THOUGH Flora had been so wakeful the preceding 
night, she tapped at Mrs. Delano's door very early 
the next morning. "Excuse me for coming before you 
were dressed," said she ; " but I wanted to ask you how 
long you think it will be before Mr. Percival can find out 
whether Mr. Fitzgerald has brought Rosa with him." 

" Probably not before noon," replied Mrs. Delano, draw- 
ing the anxious little face toward her, and imprinting on it 
her morning kiss. " Last evening I wrote a note to Mr. 
Green, requesting him to dispose of the opera tickets to 
other friends. Mr. Fitzgerald is so musical, he will of 
course be there ; and whether your sister is with him or 
not, you will be in too nervous a state to go to any public 
place. You had better stay in your room, and busy your- 
self with books and drawings, till we can ascertain the state 
of things. I will sit with you as much as I can ; and when 
I am absent you must try to be a good, quiet child." 
. - " I will try to be good, because I don't want to trouble you, 
Mamita Lila ; but you know I can't be quiet in my mind. 
I did long for the opera ; but unless Mr. Fitzgerald brought 
Rosa with him, and I could see her before I went, it would 
almost kill me to hear Norma ; for every part of it is as&o- 
ciated with her." 

After breakfast, Mrs. Delano sat some time in Flora's 
room, inspecting her recent drawings, and advising her to 
work upon them during the day, as the best method of 
restraining restlessness. While they were thus occupied, 


Carlina brought in a beautiful bouquet for Miss Delano, 
accompanied with a note for the elder lady, expressing Mr. 
Green's great regret at being deprived of the pleasure of 
their company for the evening. 

" I am sorry I missed seeing him," thought Mrs. Delano ; 
"for he is always so intimate with Southerners, I dare say 
he would know all about Mr. Fitzgerald ; though I should 
have been at a loss how to introduce the inquiry." 

Not long afterward Mr. Percival called, and had what 
seemed to Flora a very long private conference with Mrs. 
Delano. The information he brought was, that the lady 
with Mr. Fitzgerald was a small, slight figure, with yellow- 
ish hair and very delicate complexion. 

" That is in all respects the very opposite of Flora's 
description of her sister," rejoined Mrs. Delano. 

Their brief conversation on the subject was concluded by 
a request that Mr. Percival would inquire at Civita Vecchia 
for the earliest vessels bound either to France or England. 

Mrs. Delano could not at once summon sufficient resolu- 
tion to recount all the particulars to Flora ; to whom she 
merely said that she considered it certain that her sister 
was not with Mr. Fitzgerald. 

" Then why can't I go right off to the United States to- 
day ? " exclaimed the impetuous little damsel. 

" Would you then leave Mamita Lila so suddenly ? " in- 
quired her friend ; whereupon the emotional child began 
to weep and protest. This little scene was interrupted by 
Carlina with two visiting-cards on a silver salver. Mrs. 
Delano's face flushed unusually as she glanced at them. 
She immediately rose to go, saying to Flora : " I must see 
these people ; but I will come back to you as soon as I can. 
Don't leave your room, my dear." 


In the parlor, she found a gentleman and lady, both 
handsome, but as different from each other as night and 
morning. The lady stepped forward and said : " I think 
you will recollect me ; for we lived in the same street in 
Boston, and you and my mother used to visit together." 

"Miss Lily Bell," rejoined Mrs. Delano, offering her 
band. "I had not heard you were on this side the At- 

" Not Miss Bell now, but Mrs. Fitzgerald," replied the 
fair little lady. " Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Fitz- 

Mrs. Delano bowed, rather coldly ; and her visitor con- 
tinued : " I was so sorry I did n't know you were with the 
Vatican party last night. Mr. Green told us of it this 
morning, and said you were obliged to leave early, on ac- 
count of the indisposition of Miss Delano. I hope she has 
recovered, for Mr. Green has told me so much about her 
that I am dying with curiosity to see her." 

u She is better, I thank you, but not well enough to see 
company," replied Mrs. Delano. 

"What a pity she will be obliged to relinquish the 
opera to-night ! " observed Mr. Fitzgerald. " I hear she is 
very musical ; and they tell w T onderful stories about this 
new prima donna. They say she has two more notes in 
the altissimo scale than any singer who has been heard 
here, and that her sostenuto is absolutely marvellous." 

Mrs. Delano replied politely, expressing regret that she 
and her daughter were deprived of the pleasure of hearing 
such a musical genius. After some desultory chat concern- 
ing the various sights in Rome, the visitors departed. 

" I 'm glad your call was short," said Mr. Fitzgerald. 
u That lady is a perfect specimen of Boston ice." 


Whereupon his companion began to rally him for want 
of gallantry in saying anything disparaging of Boston. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Delano was pacing the parlor in a dis- 
turbed state of mind. Though she had foreseen such a 
contingency as one of the possible consequences of adopt- 
ing Flora, yet when it came so suddenly in a different 
place, and under different circumstances from any she had 
thought of, the effect was somewhat bewildering. She 
dreaded the agitation into which the news would throw 
Flora, and she wanted to mature her own future plans be- 
fore she made the announcement. So, in answer to Flora's 
questions about the visitors, she merely said a lady from 
Boston, the daughter of one of her old acquaintances, had 
called to introduce her husband. After dinner, they spent 
some time reading Tasso's Aminta together ; and then Mrs. 
Delano said : " I wish, to go and have a talk with Mr. and 
Mrs. Percival. I have asked him to inquire about vessels 
at Civita Yecchia ; for, under present circumstances, I pre- 
sume you would be glad to set out sooner than we intended 
on that romantic expedition in search of your sister." 

" O, thank you ! thank you ! " exclaimed Flora, jumping 
up and kissing her. 

" I trust you will not go out, or sing, or show yourself at 
the windows while I am gone," said Mrs. Delano ; " for 
though Mr. Fitzgerald can do you no possible harm, it 
would be more agreeable to slip away without his seeing 

The promise was readily and earnestly given, and she 
proceeded to the lodgings of Mr. and Mrs. Percival in the 
next street. After she had related the experiences of the 
morning, she asked what they supposed had become of 


" It is to be hoped she does not continue her relation 
with that base man if she knows of his marriage," said 
Mrs. Percival ; " for that would involve a moral degrada- 
tion painful for you to think of in Flora's sister." 

" If she has ceased to interest his fancy, very likely he 
may have sold her," said Mr. Percival ; " for a man who 
could entertain the idea of selling Flora, I think would sell 
his own Northern wife, if the law permitted it and circum- 
stances tempted him to it." 

" What do you think I ought to do in the premises ? " 
inquired Mrs. Delano. 

" I would hardly presume to say what you ought to do," 
rejoined Mrs. Percival ; " but I know what I should do, if 
I were as rich as you, and as strongly attached to Flora." 

" Let me hear what you would do," said Mrs. Delano. 

The prompt reply was: "I would go in search of her. 
And if she was sold, I would buy her and bring her home, 
and be a mother to her." 

" Thank you," said Mrs. Delano, warmly pressing her 
hand. " I thought you would advise what was kindest and 
noblest. Money really seems to me of very little value, 
except as a means of promoting human happiness. And 
in this case I might perhaps prevent moral degradation, 
growing out of misfortune and despair." 

After some conversation concerning vessels that were 
about to sail, the friends parted. On her way homeward, 
she wondered within herself whether they had any suspi- 
cion of the secret tie that bound her so closely to these 
unfortunate girls. " I ought to do the same for them with- 
out that motive," thought she ; " but should I ? " 

Though her call had not been very long, it seemed so to 
Flora, who had latterly been little accustomed to. solitude. 


She had no heart for books or drawing. She sat listlessly 
watching the crowd on Monte Pincio ; — children chasing 
each other, or toddling about with nurses in bright-red 
jackets ; carriages going round and round, ever and anon 
bringing into the sunshine gleams of gay Roman scarfs, or 
bright autumnal ribbons fluttering in the breeze. She had 
enjoyed few things more than^ joining that fashionable 
promenade to overlook the city in the changing glories of 
sunset. But now she cared not for it. Her thoughts were 
far away on the lonely island. As sunset quickly faded 
into twilight, carriages and pedestrians wound their way 
down the hill. The noble trees on its summit became 
solemn silhouettes against the darkening sky, and the 
monotonous trickling of the fountain in the' court below 
sounded more distinct as the street noises subsided. She 
was growing a little anxious, when she heard soft footfalls 
on the stairs, which she at once recognized and hastened to 
meet. " O, you have been gone so long ! " she exclaimed. 
Happy, as all human beings are, to have another heart so 
dependent on them, the gratified lady passed her arm round 
the waist of the loving child, and they ascended to their 
rooms like two confidential school-girls. 

After tea, Mrs. Delano said, " Now I will keep my 
promise of telling you all I have discovered." Flora ran 
to an ottoman by her side, and, leaning on her lap, looked 
up eagerly into her face. " You must try not to be excita- 
ble, my dear," said her friend ; " for I have some unpleas- 
ant news to tell you." 

The expressive eyes, that were gazing wistfully into 
hers while she spoke, at once assumed that startled, melan- 
choly look, strangely in contrast with their laughing shape. 
Her friend was so much affected by it that she hardly 


knew how to proceed with her painful task. At last Flora 
murmured, " Is she dead ? " 

" I have heard no such tidings, darling," she replied. 
" But Mr. Fitzgerald has married a Boston lady, and they 
were the visitors who came here this morning." 

Flora sprung up and pressed her hand on her heart, as 
if a sharp arrow had hit her. But she immediately sank 
on the ottoman again, and said in tones of suppressed agi- 
tation : " Then he has left poor Rosa. How miserable she 
must be ! She loved him so ! O, how wrong it was for 
me to run away and leave her ! And only to think how I 
have been enjoying myself, when she was there all alone, 
with her heart breaking ! Can't we go to-morrow to look 
for her, dear Mamita?" 

" In three days a vessel will sail for Marseilles," replied 
Mrs. Delano. " Our passage is taken ; and Mr. and Mrs. 
Percival, who intended to return home soon, are kind 
enough to say they will go with us. I wish they could 
accompany us to the South ; but he is so well known as 
an Abolitionist that his presence would probably cause un- 
pleasant interruptions and delays, and perhaps endanger 
his life." 

Flora seized her hand and kissed it, while tears were 
dropping fast upon it. And at every turn of the conversa- 
tion, she kept repeating, " How wrong it was for me to run 
away and leave her ! " 

" No, my child," replied Mrs. Delano, " you did right in 
coming to me. If you had stayed there, you would have 
made both her and yourself miserable, beside doing what 
was very wrong. I met Mr. Fitzgerald once on horse- 
back, while I was visiting at Mr. Welbyls plantation ; but 
I never fairly saw him until to-day. He is so very hand- 


some, that, when I looked at him, I could not but think it 
rather remarkable he did not gain a bad power over you by 
his insinuating flattery, when you were so very young and 

The guileless little damsel looked up with an expression 
of surprise, and said : " How could I bear to have him 
make love to me, when he was Rosa's husband ? He is so 
handsome and fascinating, that, if he had loved me instead 
of Rosa, in the beginning, I dare say I should have been as 
much in love with him as she was. I did dearly love him 
while he was a kind brother ; but I could n't love him so. 
It would have killed Rosa if I had. Besides, he told false- 
hoods ; and papa taught us to consider that as the meanest 
of faults. I have heard him tell Rosa he never loved any- 
body but her, when an hour before he had told me he loved 
me better than Rosa. What could I do but despise such a 
man ?" Then, when he threatened to sell me, I became 
dreadfully afraid of him." She* started up, as if struck by 
a sudden thought, and exclaimed wildly, " What if he has 
sold Rosa?" 

Her friend brought forward every argument and every 
promise she could think of to pacify her ; and when she 
had become quite calm, they sang a few hymns together, 
and before retiring to rest knelt down side by side and 
prayed for strength and guidance in these new troubles. 

Flora remained a long time wakeful, thinking of Rosa 
deserted and alone. She had formed many projects con- 
cerning what was to be seen and heard and done in Rome ; 
but she forgot them all. She did not even think of the 
much-anticipated opera, until she heard from the street 
snatches of Norma, whistled or sung by the dispersing 

audience. A tenor voice passed the house singing, Vieni 

10* o 


in Roma. " Ah," thought she, " Gerald and I used to 
sing that duet together. And in those latter days how lan- 
guishingly he used to look at me, behind her back, while he 
sang passionately, i Ah, deh cedi, cedi a me/ 9 And poor 
cheated Rosa would say, ' Dear Gerald, how much heart 
you put into your voice ! ' O shame, shame ! "What could 
I do but run away ? Poor Rosa ! How I wish I could 
hear her sing ' Casta Diva,' as she used to do when we sat 
gazing at the moon shedding its soft light over the pines in 
that beautiful lonely island." 

And so, tossed for a long while on a sea of memories, 
she finally drifted into dream-land. 



WHILE Flora was listlessly gazing at Monte Pincio 
from the solitude of her room in the Via delle 
Quattro Fontane, Rosabella was looking at the same object, 
seen at a greater distance, over intervening houses, from 
her high lodgings in the Corso. She could see the road 
winding like a ribbon round the hill, with a medley of 
bright colors continually moving over it. Rut she was ab- 
sorbed in revery, and they floated round and round before 
her mental eye, like the revolving shadows of a magic 

She was announced to sing that night, as the new Span- 
ish 'prima donna, La Senorita Rosita Campaneo ; and 
though she had been applauded by manager and musicians 
at the rehearsal that morning, her spirit shrank from the 
task. Recent letters from America had caused deep mel- 
ancholy ; and the idea of singing, not con amove, but as a 
performer before an audience of entire strangers, filled her 
with dismay. She remembered how many times she and 
Flora and Gerald had sung together from Norma ; and an 
oppressive feeling of loneliness came over her. Returning 
from rehearsal, a few hours before, she had seen a young 
Italian girl, who strongly reminded her of her lost sister. 
" Ah ! " thought she, " if Flora and I had gone out into the 
world together, to make our own way, as Madame first in- 
tended, how much sorrow and suffering I might have been 
spared ! ' She went to the piano, where the familiar music 
of Norma lay open before her, and from the depths of her 


saddened soul gushed forth, * 6 A7i, hello a me Ritorno" The 
last tone passed sighingly away, and as her hands lingered 
on the keys, she murmured, " Will my heart pass into it 
there, before that crowd of strange faces, as it does here ? " 

" To be sure it will, dear," responded Madame, who had 
entered softly and stood listening to the last strains. 

" Ah, if all would hear with your partial ears ! " re- 
plied Rosabella, with a glimmering smile. " But they 
will not. And I may be so frightened that I shall lose my 

" What have you to be afraid of, darling ? " rejoined Ma- 
dame. " It was more trying to sing at private parties of 
accomplished musicians, as you did in Paris ; and especially 
at the palace, where there was such an elite company. Yet 
you know that Queen Amelia was so much pleased with 
your performance of airs from this same opera, that she 
sent you the beautiful enamelled wreath you are to wear to- 

" What I was singing when you came in wept itself out 
of the fulness of my heart," responded Rosabella. " This 
dreadful news of Tulee and the baby unfits me for any- 
thing. Do you think there is no hope it may prove un- 

"You know the letter explicitly states that my cousin 
and his wife, the negro woman, and the white baby, all died 
of yellow-fever," replied Madame. "But don't reproach 
me for leaving them, darling. I feel badly enough about 
it, already. I thought it would be healthy so far out of 
the city ; and it really seemed the best thing to do with the 
poor little bambino, until we could get established some- 

"I did not intend to reproach you, my kind friend," 


answered Rosa. "I know you meant it all for the best. 
But I had a heavy presentiment of evil when you first told 
me they were left. This news makes it hard for me to 
keep up my heart for the efforts of the evening. You 
know I was induced to enter upon this operatic career 
mainly by the hope of educating that poor child, and pro- 
viding well for the old age of you and Papa Balbino, as I 
have learned to call my good friend, the Signor. And 
poor Tulee, too, — how much I intended to do for her ! No 
mortal can ever know what she was to me in the darkest 
hours of my life." 

" Well, poor Tulee's troubles are all over," rejoined 
Madame, with a sigh ; " and bambinos escape a great deal 
of suffering by going out of this wicked world. For, be- 
tween you and I, dear, I don't believe one word about the 
innocent little souls staying in purgatory on account of not 
being baptized." 

" O, my friend, if you only knew ! " exclaimed Rosa, 
in a wild, despairing tone. But she instantly checked her- 
self, and said : " I will try not to think of it ; for if I do, I 
shall spoil my voice ; and Papa Balbino would be dread- 
fully mortified «if I failed, after he had taken so much pains 
to have me brought out." 

" That is right, darling," rejoined Madame, patting her 
on the shoulder. " I will go away, and leave you to re- 

Again and again Rosa sang the familiar airs, trying to 
put soul into them, by imagining how she would feel if she 
were in Norma's position. Some of the emotions she 
knew by her own experience, and those she sang with her 
deepest feeling. 

" If I could only keep the same visions before me that I 


have here alone, I should sing well to-night," she said to 
herself; "for now, when I sing 'Casta Diva/ I seem to be 
sitting with my arm round dear little Flora, watching the 
moon as it rises above the dark pines on that lonely 

At last the dreaded hour came. Rosa appeared on the 
stage with her train of priestesses. The orchestra and the 
audience were before her; and she knew that Papa and 
Mamma Balbino were watching her from the side with anx- 
ious hearts. She was very pale, and her first notes were 
a little tremulous. But her voice soon became clear and 
strong; and when she fixed her eyes on the moon, and 
sang " Casta Diva," the fulness and richness of the tones 
took everybody by surprise. 

" Bis ! Bis ! " cried the audience ; and the chorus was not 
allowed to proceed till she had sung it a second and third 
time. She courtesied her acknowledgments gracefully. 
But as she retired, ghosts of the past went with her; and 
with her heart full of memories, she seemed to weep in 
music, while she sang in Italian, " Restore to mine afflic- 
tion one smile of love's protection." Again the audience 
shouted, "Bis! Bis! 9 ' 

The duet with Adalgisa was more difficult ; for she had 
not yet learned to be an actress, and she was embarrassed 
by the consciousness of being an object of jealousy to the 
seconda donna, partly because she was prima, and partly 
because the tenor preferred her. But when Adalgisa 
sang in Italian the words, " Behold him ! " she chanced to 
raise her eyes to a box near the stage, and saw the faces 
of Gerald Fitzgerald and his wife bending eagerly toward 
her. She shuddered, and for an instant her voice failed 
her. The audience were breathless. Her look, her atti- 


tude, her silence, her tremor, all seemed inimitable acting. 
A glance at the foot-lights and at the orchestra recalled 
the recollection of where she was, and by a strong effort 
she controlled herself; though there was still an agitation 
in her voice, which the audience and the singers thought to 
be the perfection of acting. Again she glanced at Fitz- 
gerald, and there was terrible power in the tones with 
which she uttered, in Italian, " Tremble, perfidious one ! 
Thou knowest the cause is ample." 

Her eyes rested for a moment on Mrs. Fitzgerald, and 
with a wonderful depth of pitying sadness, she sang, " 0, 
how his art deceived thee ! " 

The wish she had formed was realized. She was en- 
abled to give voice to her own emotions, forgetful of the 
audience for the time being. And even in subsequent 
scenes, when the recollection of being a performer returned 
upon her, her inward excitation seemed to float her on- 
ward, like a great wave. 

Once again her own feelings took her up, like a tornado, 
and made her seem a wonderful actress. In the scene 
where Norma is tempted to kill her children, she fixed her 
indignant gaze full upon Fitzgerald, and there was an in- 
describable expression of stern resolution in her voice, and 
of pride in the carriage of her queenly head, while she 
sang : " Disgrace worse than death awaits them. Slavery ? 
No ! never ! " 

Fitzgerald quailed before it. He grew pale, and slunk 
back in the box. The audience had never seen the part 
so conceived, and a few criticised it. But her beauty and 
her voice and her overflowing feeling carried all before her ; 
and this, also, was accepted as a remarkable inspiration of 
theatrical genius. 


When the wave of her own excitement was subsiding, 
the magnetism of an admiring audience began to affect her 
strongly. With an outburst of fury, she sang, " War ! 
War ! " The audience cried, " Bis ! Bis ! " and she sang 
it as powerfully the second time. 

What it was that had sustained and carried her through 
that terrible ordeal, she could never understand. 

When the curtain dropped, Fitzgerald was about to rush 
after her ; but his wife caught his arm, and he was obliged 
to follow. It was an awful penance he underwent, submit- 
ting to this necessary restraint; and while his soul was 
seething like a boiling caldron, he was obliged to answer 
evasively to Lily's frequent declaration that the superb 
voice of this Spanish prima donna was exactly like the 
wonderful voice that went wandering round the plantation, 
like a restless ghost. 

Papa and Mamma Balbino were waiting to receive the 
triumphant- cantatrice, as she left the stage. "Brava! 
Brava ! " shouted the Signor, in a great fever of excite- 
ment ; but seeing how pale she looked, he pressed her hand 
in silence, while Madame wrapped her in shawls. They 
lifted her into the carriage as quickly as possible, where 
her head drooped almost fainting on Madame's shoulder. 
It required them both to support her unsteady steps, as 
they mounted the stairs to their lofty lodging. She told 
them nothing that night of having seen Fitzgerald ; and, 
refusing all refreshment save a sip of wine, she sank on 
the bed utterly exhausted. 



SHE slept late the next day, and woke with a feeling 
of utter weariness of body and prostration of spirit. 
When her dressing-maid Giovanna came at her summons, 
she informed her that a gentleman had twice called to see 
her, but left no name or card. " Let no one be admitted 
to-day but the manager of the opera," said Rosa. " I will 
dress now ; and if Mamma Balbino is at leisure, I should 
like to have her come and talk with me while I breakfast." 

" Madame has gone out to make some purchases," re- 
plied Giovanna. " She said she should return soon, and 
charged me to keep everything quiet, that you might sleep. 
The Signor is in his room waiting to speak to you." 

" Please tell him I have waked," said Rosa; "and as soon 
as I have dressed and breakfasted, ask him to come to me." 

Giovanna, who had been at the opera the preceding 
evening, felt the importance of her mission in dressing the 
celebrated Senorita Rosita Campaneo, of whose beauty and 
gracefulness everybody was talking. And when the pro- 
cess was completed, the cantatrice might well have been 
excused if she had thought herself the handsomest of 
women. The glossy dark hair rippled over her forehead 
in soft waves, and the massive braids behind were inter- 
twisted with a narrow band of crimson velvet, that glowed 
like rubies where the sunlight fell upon it. Her morning 
wrapper of fine crimson merino, embroidered with gold- 
colored silk, was singularly becoming to her complexion, 
softened as the contact was by a white lace collar fastened 


at the throat with a golden pin. But though she was 
seated before the mirror, and though her own Spanish 
taste had chosen the strong contrast of bright colors, she 
took no notice of the effect produced. Her face was turned 
toward the window, and as she gazed on the morning sky, 
all unconscious of its translucent brilliancy of blue, there 
was an inward-looking expression in her luminous eyes 
that would have made the fortune of an artist, if he could 
have reproduced her as a Sibyl. Giovanna looked at her 
with surprise, that a lady could be so handsome and so 
beautifully dressed, yet not seem to care for it. She 
lingered a moment contemplating the superb head with an 
exultant look, as if it were a picture of her own painting, 
and then she went out noiselessly to bring the breakfast-tray. 

The Senorita Campaneo ate with a keener appetite than 
she had ever experienced as Rosabella the recluse ; for the 
forces of nature, exhausted by the exertions of the preced- 
ing evening, demanded renovation. But the services of 
the cook were as little appreciated as those of the dressing- 
maid ; the luxurious breakfast was to her simply food. 
The mirror was at her side, and Giovanna watched curi- 
ously to see whether she would admire the effect of the 
crimson velvet gleaming among her dark hair. But she 
never once glanced in that direction. When she had eaten 
sufficiently, she sat twirling her spoon and looking into the 
depths of her cup, as if it were a magic mirror revealing all 
the future. 

She was just about to say, " Now you may call Papa 
Balbino," when Giovanna gave a sudden start, and ex- 
claimed, " Signorita ! a gentleman ! " 

And ere she had time to look round, Fitzgerald was 
kneeling at her feet. He seized her hand and kissed it 


passionately, saying, in an agony of entreaty : " O Rosa- 
bella, do say you forgive me ! I am suffering the tortures 
of the damned." 

The irruption was so sudden and unexpected, that for an 
instant she failed to realize it. But her presence of mind 
quickly returned, and, forcibly withdrawing the hand to 
which he clung, she turned to the astonished waiting-maid 
and said quite calmly, " Please deliver immediately the 
message I spoke of." 

Giovanna left the room and proceeded directly to the 
adjoining apartment, where Signor Balbino was engaged 
in earnest conversation with another gentleman. 

Fitzgerald remained kneeling, still pleading vehemently 
for forgiveness. 

" Mr. Fitzgerald," said she, " this audacity is incredible. 
I could not have imagined it possible you would presume 
ever again to come into my presence, after having sold me 
to that infamous man." 

" He took advantage of me, Rosa. I was intoxicated 
with wine, and knew not what I did. I could not have 
done it if I had been in my senses. I have always loved 
you as I never loved any other woman ; and I never loved 
you so wildly as now." 

"Leave me!" she exclaimed imperiously. "Your being 
here does me injury. If you have any manhood in you, 
leave me ! " 

He strove to clutch the folds of her robe, and in fren- 
zied tones cried out : " Rosabella, don't drive me from 
you ! I can't live without — " 

A voice like a pistol-shot broke in upon his sentence : 
" Villain ! Deceiver ! What are you doing here ? Out 
of the house this instant ! " 


Fitzgerald sprung to his feet, pale with rage, and en-, 
countered the Hashing eyes of the Signor. " What right 
have you to order me out of the house ? " said he. 

" I am her adopted father," replied the Italian ; " and no 
man shall insult her while I am alive." 

" So you are installed as her protector!" retorted Fitz- 
gerald, sneeringly. " You are not the first gallant I have 
known to screen himself behind his years." 

" By Jupiter ! " vociferated the enraged Italian ; and he 
made a spring to clutch him by the throat. 

Fitzgerald drew out a pistol. With a look of utter 
distress, Rosa threw herself between them, saying, in im- 
ploring accents, " Will you go ? " 

At the same moment, a hand rested gently on the 
Signor's shoulder, and a manly voice said soothingly, " Be 
calm, my friend." Then, turning to Mr. Fitzgerald, the 
gentleman continued : " Slight as our acquaintance is, sir, it 
authorizes me to remind you that scenes like this are unfit 
for a lady's apartment." 

Fitzgerald slowly replaced his pistol, as he answered 
coldly : " I remember your countenance, sir, but I don't rec- 
ollect where I have seen it, nor do I understand what right 
you have to intrude here." 

u I met you in New Orleans, something more than four 
years ago," replied the stranger ; " and I was then intro- 
duced to you by this lady's father, as Mr. Alfred King of 

" O, I remember," replied Fitzgerald, with a slight curl 
of his lip. " I thought you something of a Puritan then ; 
but it seems you are her protector also." ' 

Mr. King colored to the temples ; but he replied calm- 
ly: "I know not whether Miss Royal recognizes me ; for 


I have never seen her since the evening we spent so de- 
lightfully at her father's house." 

"I do recognize you," replied Rosabella ; " and as the 
son of my fathers dearest friend, I welcome you." 

She held out her hand as she spoke, and he clasped it 
for an instant. But though the touch thrilled him, he be- 
trayed no emotion. Relinquishing it with a respectful 
bow, he turned to Mr. Fitzgerald, and said : " You have 
seen fit to call me a Puritan, and may not therefore accept 
me as a teacher of politeness ; but if you wish to sustain 
the character of a cavalier, you surely will not remain in a 
lady's house after she has requested you to quit it." 

With a slight shrug of his shoulders, Mr. Fitzgerald took 
his hat, and said, " Where ladies command, I am of course 
bound to obey." 

As he passed out of the door, he turned toward Rosa- 
bella, and, with a low bow, said, " Au revoir ! " 

The Signor was trembling with anger, but succeeded in 
smothering his half-uttered anathemas. Mr. King com- 
pressed his lips tightly for a moment, as if silence were a 
painful effort. Then, turning to Rosa, he said : " Pardon 
my sudden intrusion, Miss Royal. Your father introduced 
me to the Signor, and I last night saw him at the opera. 
That will account for my being in his room to-day." He 
glanced at the Italian with a smile, as he added : u I heard 
very angry voices, and I thought, if there was to be a duel, 
perhaps the Signor would need a second. You must be 
greatly fatigued with exertion and excitement. Therefore, 
I will merely congratulate you on your brilliant success last 
evening, and wish you good morning." 

" I am fatigued," she replied ; " but if I bid you good 
morning now, it is with the hope of seeing you again soon. 


The renewal of acquaintance with one whom my dear 
father loved is too pleasant to be willingly relinquished." 

"Thank you," he said. But the simple words were ut- 
tered with a look and tone so deep and earnest, that she 
felt the color rising to her cheeks. 

" Am I then still capable of being moved by such tones ? " 
she asked herself, as she listened to his departing footsteps, 
and, for the first time that morning, turned toward the mir- 
ror and glanced at her own flushed countenance. 

" What a time you 've been having, dear ! " exclaimed 
Madame, who came bustling in a moment after. " Only to 
think of Mr. Fitzgerald's coming here ! His impudence 
goes a little beyond anything I ever heard of. Was n't it 
lucky that Boston friend should drop down from the skies, 
as it were, just at the right minute ; for the Signor 's such 
a flash-in-the-pan, there 's no telling what might have hap- 
pened. Tell me all about it, dear." 

" I will tell you about it, dear mamma," replied Rosa ; 
" but I must beg you to excuse me just now ; for I am 
really very much flurried and fatigued. If you had n't 
gone out, I should have told you this morning, at break- 
fast, that I saw Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald at the opera, and 
that I was singing at them in good earnest, while people 
thought I was acting. We will talk it all over some time ; 
but now I must study, for I shall have hard work to keep 
the ground I have gained. You know I must perform 
again to-night. 0, how I dread it ! " 

"You are a strange child to talk so, when you have 
turned everybody's head," responded Madame. 

« Why should I care for everybody's* head ? ' rejoined 
the successful caniatrice. But she thought to herself: "I 
shall not feel, as I did last night, that I am going to sing 


merely to strangers. There will be one there who heard 
me sing to my clear father. I must try to recall the into- 
nations that came so naturally last evening, and see whether 
I can act what I then felt. She seated herself at the piano, 
and began to sing, " Oh, di qual set tit vittima" Then, 
shaking her head slowly, she murmured : " No ; it does n't 
come. I must trust to the inspiration of the moment. But 
it is a comfort to know they will not all be strangers." 

tSfe -Hi -ik jk. &. 

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Mr. King took an opportunity that same day to call on 
Mr. Fitzgerald. He was very haughtily received ; but, 
without appearing to notice it, he opened his errand by 
saying, " I have come to speak with you concerning Miss 

" All I have to say to you, sir," replied Mr. Fitzgerald, 
u is, that neither you nor any other man can induce me to 
give up my pursuit of her. I will follow her wherever she 

" What possible advantage can you gain by such a 
course ? ' inquired his visitor. " Why uselessly expose 
yourself to disagreeable notoriety, which must, of course, 
place Mrs. Fitzgerald in a mortifying position ? " 

" How do you know my perseverance would be useless ? ' 
asked Fitzgerald. " Did she send you to tell me so?" 

" She does not know of my coming," replied Mr. King. 
" I have told you that my acquaintance with Miss Royal 
is very slight. But you will recollect that I met her in 
the freshness of her young life, when she was surrounded 
by all the ease and elegance that a father's wealth and ten- 
derness could bestow; and it was unavoidable that her 
subsequent misfortunes should excite my sympathy. She 
has never told me anything of her own history, but from 


others I know all the particulars. It is not my purpose to 
allude to them ; but after suffering all she has suffered, 
now that she has bravely made a standing-place for herself, 
and has such an arduous career before her, I appeal to your 
sense of honor, whether it is generous, whether it is manly, 
to do anything that will increase the difficulties of her 

" It is presumptuous in you, sir, to come here to teach me 
what is manly," rejoined Fitzgerald. 

" I merely presented the case for the verdict of your own 
conscience," answered his visitor ; " but I will again take 
the liberty to suggest for your consideration, that if you 
persecute this unfortunate young lady with professions you 
know are unwelcome, it must necessarily react in a very 
unpleasant way upon your own reputation, and consequently 
upon the happiness of your family." 

"You mistook your profession, sir. You should have 
been a preacher," said Fitzgerald, with a sarcastic smile. 
" I presume you propose to console the lady for her misfor- 
tunes ; but let me tell you, sir, that whoever attempts to 
come between me and her will do it at his peril." 

" I respect Miss Royal too much to hear her name used 
in any such discussion," replied Mr. King. " Good morn- 
ing, sir." 

" The mean Yankee ! " exclaimed the Southerner, as he 
looked after him. " If he were a gentleman he would 
have challenged me, and I should have met him like a 
gentleman ; but one does n't know what to do with such 
cursed Yankee preaching." 

He was in a very perturbed state of mind. Rosabella 
had, in fact, made a much deeper impression on him than 
any other woman had ever made. And now that he saw 


her the bright cynosure of all eyes, fresh fuel was heaped 
on the flickering flame of his expiring passion. Her dis- 
dain piqued his vanity, while it produced the excitement 
of difficulties to be overcome. He was exasperated beyond 
measure, that the beautiful woman who had depended solely 
upon him should now be surrounded by protectors. And 
if he could regain no other power, he was strongly tempted 
to exert the power of annoyance. In some moods, he 
formed wild projects of waylaying her, and carrying her 
off by force. But the Yankee preaching, much as he de- 
spised it, was not without its influence. He felt that it 
would be most politic to keep on good terms with his rich 
wife, who was, besides, rather agreeable to him. He con- 
cluded, on the whole, that he would assume superiority to 
the popular enthusiasm about the new 'prima donna /"that 
he would coolly criticise her singing and her acting, while 
he admitted that she had many good points. It was a hard 
task he undertook ; for on the stage Rosabella attracted 
him with irresistible power, to which was added the mag- 
netism of the admiring audience. After the first evening, 
she avoided looking at the box where he sat ; but he had 
an uneasy satisfaction in the consciousness that it was im- 
possible she could forget he was present and watching 

The day after the second appearance of the Senorita 
Campaneo, Mrs. Delano was surprised by another call from 
the Fitzgeralds. 

" Don't think we intend to persecute you," said the little 

lady. " We merely came on business. We have just 

heard that you were to leave Eome very soon ; but Mr. 

Green seemed to think it could n't be so soon as was said." 

" Unexpected circumstances make it necessary for me to 

11 P 


return sooner than I intended," replied Mrs. Delano. " I 
expect to sail day after to-morrow." 

" What a pity your daughter should go without hearing 
the new prima donna ! " exclaimed Mrs. Fitzgerald. " She 
is really a remarkable creature. Everybody says she is as 
beautiful as a houri. And. as for her voice, I never heard 
anything like it, except the first night I spent on Mr. Fitz- 
gerald's plantation. There was somebody wandering about 
in the garden and groves who sang just like her. Mr. Fitz- 
gerald did n't seem to be much struck with the voice, but I 
could never forget it." 

" It was during our honeymoon," replied her husband ; 
" and how could I be interested in any other voice, when I 
had yours to listen to ? " 

His lady tapped him playfully with her parasol, saying : 
" O, you flatterer ! But I wish I could get a chance to 
speak to this Seiiorita. I would ask her if she had ever 
been in America." 

" I presume not," rejoined Mr. Fitzgerald. " They say 
an Italian musician heard her in Andalusia, and was so 
much charmed with her voice that he adopted her and 
educated her for the stage ; and he named her Campaneo, 
because there is such a bell-like echo in her voice some- 
times. Do you think, Mrs. Delano, that it would do your 
daughter any serious injury to go with us this evening? 
We have a spare ticket ; and we would take excellent 
care of her. If she found herself fatigued, I would attend 
upon her home any time she chose to leave." 

"It would be too exciting for her nerves," was Mrs. 
Delano's laconic answer. 

" The fact is," said Mrs. Fitzgerald, " Mr. Green has 
told us so much about her, that we are extremely anxious 


to be introduced to her. He says she has n't half seen 
Rome, and he wishes she could join our party. I wish we 
could persuade you to leave her with us. I can assure you 
Mr. Fitzgerald is a most agreeable and gallant protector to 
ladies. And then it is such a pity, when she is so musical, 
that she should go without hearing this new prima donna" 

" Thank you," rejoined Mrs. Delano ; "but we have 
become so much attached to each other's society, that I 
don't think either of us could be happy separated. Since 
she cannot hear this musical wonder, I shall not increase 
her regrets by repeating your enthusiastic account of what 
she has missed." 

" If you had been present at her debut, you would n't 
wonder at my enthusiasm," replied the little lady. " Mr. 
Fitzgerald is getting over the fever a little now, and un- 
dertakes to criticise. He says she overacted her part ; 
that she ' tore a passion to tatters,' and all that. But I 
never saw him so excited as he was then. I think she 
noticed it ; for she fixed her glorious dark eyes directly 
upon our box while she was singing several of her most 
effective passages." 

" My dear," interrupted her husband, " you are so opera- 
mad, that you are forgetting the object of your call." 

" True," replied she. " We wanted to inquire whether 
you. were certainly going so soon, and whether any one had 
engaged these rooms. We took a great fancy to them. 
What a desirable situation ! So sunny ! Such a fine view 
of Monte Pincio and the Pope's gardens ! " 

" They were not engaged last evening," answered Mrs. 

" Then you will secure them immediately, won't you, 
dear ? " said the lady, appealing to her spouse. 


With withes that the voyage might prove safe and 
pleasant, they departed. Mrs. Delano lingered a moment 
at the window, looking out upon St. Peter's and the Etrus- 
can Hills beyond, thinking the while how strangely the 
skeins of human destiny sometimes become entangled with 
each other. Yet she was unconscious of half the entan- 



^HE engagement of the Senorita Rosita Campaneo 
was for four weeks, during which Mr. King called 
frequently and attended the opera constantly. Every per- 
sonal interview, and every vision of her on the stage, deep- 
ened the impression she made upon him when they first 
met. It gratified him to see that, among the shower of 
bouquets she was constantly receiving, his was the one she 
usually carried ; nor was she unobservant that he always 
wore a fresh rose. But she was unconscious of his con- 
tinual guardianship, and he was careful that she should re- 
main so. Every night that she went to the opera and 
returned from it, he assumed a dress like the driver's, and 
sat with him on the outside of the carriage, — a fact known 
only to Madame and the Signor, who were glad enough to 
have a friend at hand in case Mr. Fitzgerald should attempt 
any rash enterprise. Policemen were secretly employed to 
keep the cantatrice in sight, whenever she went abroad for 
air or recreation. When she made excursions out of the 
city in company with her adopted parents, Mr. King was 
always privately informed of it, and rode in the same di- 
rection ; at a sufficient distance, however, not to be visible to 
her, or to excite gossiping remarks by appearing to others 
to be her follower. Sometimes he asked himself: " What 
would my dear prudential mother say, to see me leaving 
my business to agents and clerks, while I devote my life to 
the service of an opera-singer ? — an opera-singer, too, who 
has twice been on the verge of being sold as a slave, and 


who has been the victim of a sham marriage ! " But 
though such queries jostled against conventional ideas re- 
ceived from education, they were always followed by the 
thought : " My dear mother has gone to a sphere of wider 
vision, whence she can look down upon the merely external 
distinctions of this deceptive world. Rosabella must be 
seen as a pure, good soul, in eyes that see as the angels do ; 
and as the defenceless daughter of my father's friend, it is 
my duty to protect her." So he removed from his more 
eligible lodgings in the Piazza di Spagna, and took rooms 
in the Corso, nearly opposite to hers, where day by day he 
continued his invisible guardianship. 

He had reason, at various times, to think his precautions 
were not entirely unnecessary. He had several times seen 
a figure resembling Fitzgerald's lurking about the opera- 
house, wrapped in a cloak, and with a cap very much 
drawn over his face. Once Madame and the Signor, hav- 
ing descended from the carriage, with Rosa, to examine the 
tomb of Cecilia Metella, were made a little uneasy by the 
appearance of four rude-looking fellows, who seemed bent 
upon lurking in their vicinity. But they soon recognized 
Mr. King in the distance, and not far from him the dis- 
guised policemen in his employ. The fears entertained by 
her friends were never mentioned .to Rosa, and she ap- 
peared to feel no uneasiness when riding in daylight with 
the driver and her adopted parents. She was sometimes a 
little afraid when leaving the opera late at night ; but there 
was a pleasant feeling of protection in the idea that a friend 
of her father's was in Rome, who knew better than the Sig- 
nor how to keep out of quarrels. That recollection also 
operated as an additional stimulus to excellence in her art. 
This friend had expressed himself very highly gratified by 


her successful debut, and that consideration considerably 
increased her anxiety to sustain herself at the height she 
had attained. In some respects that was impossible ; for 
the thrilling circumstances of the first evening could not 
again recur to set her soul on fire. Critics generally said 
she never equalled her first acting ; though some main- 
tained that what she had lost in power she had gained in a 
more accurate conception of the character. Her voice was 
an unfailing source of wonder and delight. They were 
never weary of listening to that volume of sound, so full 
and clear, so flexible in its modulations, so expressive in its 

As the completion of her engagement drew near, the 
manager was eager for its renewal ; and finding that she 
hesitated, he became more and more liberal in his offers. 
Things were in this state, when Mr. King called upon 
Madame one day while Rosa was absent at rehearsal. 
" She is preparing a new aria for her last evening, when 
they will be sure to encore the poor child to death," said 
Madame. " It is very flattering, but very tiresome ; and 
to my French ears their ; Bis ! Bis ! ' sounds too much 
like a hiss." 

" Will she renew her engagement, think you ? " inquired 
Mr. King. 

" I don't know certainly," replied Madame. " The man- 
ager makes very liberal offers ; but she hesitates. She 
seldom alludes to Mr. Fitzgerald, but I can see that his 
presence is irksome to her ; and then his sudden irruption 
into her room, as told by Giovanna, has given rise to some 
green-room gossip. The tenor is rather too assiduous in 
his attentions, you know ; and the seconda donna is her 
enemy, because she has superseded her in his affections. 


These things make her wish to leave Rome ; but I tell 
her she will have to encounter very much the same 
anywhere. " 

" Madame," said the young man, "you stand in the place 
of a mother to Miss Royal ; and as such, I have a favor to 
ask of you. Will you, without mentioning the subject to 
her, enable me to have a private interview with her to- 
morrow morning ? " 

" You are aware that it is contrary to her established 
rule to see any gentleman, except in the presence of my- 
self or Papa Balbino. But you have manifested so much 
delicacy, as well as friendliness, that we all feel the utmost 
confidence in you." She smiled significantly as she added : 
" If I slip out of the room, as it were by accident, I don't 
believe I shall find it very difficult to make my peace with 

Alfred King looked forward to the next morning with 
impatience ; yet when he found himself, for the first time, 
alone with Rosabella, he felt painfully embarrassed. She 
glanced at the fresh rose he wore, but could not summon 
courage to ask whether roses were his favorite flowers. 
He broke the momentary silence by saying : " Your per- 
formances here have been a source of such inexpressible 
delight to me, Miss Royal, that it pains me to think of such 
a thing as a last evening." 

" Thank you for calling me by that name," she replied. 
"It carries me back to a happier time. I hardly know 
myself as La Senorita Campaneo. It all seems to me so 
strange and unreal, that, were it not for a few visible links 
with the past, I should feel as if I had died and passed 
into another world." 

" May I ask whether you intend to renew your engage- 
ment ? " inquired he. 


She looked up quickly and earnestly, and said, " What 
would you advise me ? " 

" The brevity of our acquaintance would hardly war- 
rant my assuming the office of adviser," replied he mod- 

The shadow of a blush flitted over her face, as she an- 
swered, in a bashful way : " Excuse me if the habit of asso- 
ciating you with the memory of my father makes me for- 
get the shortness of our acquaintance. Beside, you once 
asked me if ever I was in trouble to call upon you as I 
would upon a brother." 

" It gratifies me beyond measure that you should remem- 
ber my offer, and take me at my word," responded he. 
" But in order to judge for you, it is necessary to know 
something of your own inclinations. Do you enjoy the 
career on which you have entered ? " 

" I should enjoy it if the audience were all my personal 
friends," answered she. " But I have lived such a very 
retired life, that I cannot easily become accustomed to pub- 
licity ; and there is something I cannot exactly define, that 
troubles me with regard to operas. If I could perform 
only in pure and noble characters, I think it would inspire 
me ; for then I should represent what I at least wish to be ; 
but it affects me like a discord to imagine myself in posi- 
tions which in reality I should scorn and detest." 

"I am not surprised to hear you express this feeling," 
responded he. " I had supposed it must be so. It seems 
to me the libretti of operas are generally singularly ill con- 
ceived, both morally and artistically. Music is in itself so 
pure and heavenly, that it seems a desecration to make it 
the expression of vile incidents and vapid words. But is 

the feeling of which you speak sufficiently strong to induce 



you to retire from the brilliant career now opening before 
you, and devote yourself to concert-singing ? " 

u There is one thing that makes me hesitate," rejoined 
she. " I wish to earn money fast, to accomplish certain 
purposes I have at heart. Otherwise, I don't think I care 
much for the success you call so brilliant. It is certainly 
agreeable to feel that I delight the audience, though they 
are strangers ; but their cries of ' Bis ! Bis ! ' give me 
less real pleasure than it did to have Papasito ask me to 
sing over something that he liked. I seem to see him 
now, as he used to listen to me in our flowery parlor. Do 
you remember that room, Mr. King ? " 

" Do I remember it ? " he said, with a look and emphasis 
so earnest that a quick blush suffused her eloquent face. 
" I see that room as distinctly as you can see it," he con- 
tinued. " It has often been in my dreams, and the chan- 
ging events of my life have never banished it from my 
memory for a single day* How could I forget it, when 
my heart there received its first and only deep impression. 
I have loved you from the first evening I saw you. Judg- 
ing that your affections were pre-engaged, I would gladly 
have loved another, if I could ; but though I have since 
met fascinating ladies, none of them have interested me 

An expression of pain passed over her face while she 
listened, and when he paused she murmured softly, " I am 

" Sorry ! " echoed he. " Is it then impossible for me to 
inspire you with sentiments similar to my own ? " 

" I am sorry," she replied, " because a .first, fresh love, 
like yours, deserves better recompense than it could re- 
ceive from a bruised and worn-out heart like mine. I can 


never experience the illusion of love again. I have suf- 
fered too deeply." 

" I do not wish you to experience the illusion of love 

again," he replied. " But my hope is that the devotion of 

'my life may enable you to experience the true and tender 

reality," He placed his hand gently and timidly upon 

hers as he spoke, and looked in her face earnestly. 

Without raising her eyes she said, "I suppose you are 
aware that my mother was a slave, and that her daughters 
inherited her misfortune." 

" I am aware of it," he replied. " But that only makes 
me ashamed of my country, not of her or of them. Do 
not, I pray you, pain yourself or me by alluding to any of 
the unfortunate circumstances of your past life, with the 
idea that they can depreciate your value in my estimation. 
From Madame and the Signor I have learned the whole 
story of your wrongs and your sufferings. Fortunately, 
my good father taught me, both by precept and example, to 
look through the surface of things to the reality. I have 
seen and heard enough to be convinced that your own 
heart is noble and pure. Such natures cannot be sullied 
by the unworthiness of others ; they may even be improved 
by it. The famous Dr. Spurzheim says, he who would 
have the best companion for his life should choose a wo- 
man who has suffered. And though I would gladly have 
saved you from suffering, I cannot but see that your char- 
acter has been elevated by it. Since I have known you 
here in Home, I have been surprised to observe how the 
young romantic girl has ripened into the thoughtful, pru- 
dent woman. I will not urge you for an answer now, my 
dear Miss Royal. Take as much time as you please to 
reflect upon it. Meanwhile, if you choose to devote your 


fine musical genius to the opera, I trust you will allow me 
to serve you in any way that a brother could under simi- 
lar circumstances. If you prefer to be a concert-singer, 
my father had a cousin who married in England, where 
she has a good deal of influence in the musical world. I 
am sure she would take a motherly interest in you, both 
for your own sake and mine. Your romantic story, instead 
of doing you injury in England, would make you a great 
lioness, if you chose to reveal it." 

" I should dislike that sort of attention," she replied 
hastily. " Do not suppose, however, that I am ashamed of 
my dear mother, or of her lineage ; but I wish to have any 
interest I excite founded on my own merits, not on any 
extraneous circumstance. But you have not yet advised 
me whether to remain on the stage or to retire from it." 

" If I presumed that my opinion would decide the point," 
rejoined he, " I should be diffident about expressing it in a 
case so important to yourself." 

" You are very delicate," she replied. " But I conjec- 
ture that you would be best pleased if I decided in favor 
of concert-singing." 

While he was hesitating what to say, in order to leave 
her in perfect freedom, she added : " And so, if you will 
have the goodness to introduce me to your relative, and 
she is willing to be my patroness, I will try my fortune in 
England. Of course she ought to be informed of my 
previous history ; but I should prefer to have her consider 
it strictly confidential. And now, if you please, I will say, 
Au revoir ; for Papa Balbino is waiting for some instruc- 
tions on matters of business." 

She offered her hand with a very sweet smile. He 
clasped it with a slight pressure, bowed his head upon it 


for an instant, and said, with deep emotion : " Thank you, 
dearest of women. You send me away a happy man ; for 
hope goes with me." 

When the door closed after him, she sank into a chair, 
and covered her face with both her hands. " How differ- 
ent is his manner of making love from that of Gerald," 
thought she. " Surely, I can trust this time. O, if I was 
only worthy of such love ! " 

Her revery was interrupted by the entrance of Madame 
and the Signor. She answered their inquisitive looks by 
saying, rather hastily, " When you told Mr. King the par- 
ticulars of my story, did you tell him about the poor little 
bambino I left in New Orleans ? " 

Madame replied, " I mentioned to him how the death of 
the poor little thing afflicted you." 

Rosa made no response, but occupied herself with se- 
lecting some pieces of music connected with the perform- 
ance at the opera. 

The Signor, as he went out with the music, said, " Do 
you suppose she did n't want him to know about the bam- 
bino ?" 

" Perhaps she is afraid he will think her heartless for 
leaving it," replied Madame. " But I will tell her I took 
all the blame on myself. If she is so anxious about his 
good opinion, it shows which way the wind blows." 

The Sefiorita Rosita Campaneo and her attendants had 
flitted, no one knew whither, before the public were in- 
formed that her engagement was not to be renewed. Ru- 
mor added that she was soon to be married to a rich Amer- 
ican, who had withdrawn her from the stage. 

" Too much to be monopolized by one man," said Mr. 
Green to Mr. Fitzgerald. " Such a glorious creature be- 
longs to the world," 


" Who is the happy man ? " inquired Mrs. Fitzgerald. 

" They say it is King, that pale-faced Puritan from Bos- 
ton," rejoined her husband. "I should have given her 
credit for better taste." 

In private, he made all possible inquiries ; but merely 
succeeded in tracing them to a vessel at Civita Vecchia, 
bound to Marseilles. 

To the public, the fascinating prima donna, who had 
rushed up from the horizon like a brilliant rocket, and 
disappeared as suddenly, was only a nine-days wonder. 
Though for some time after, when opera-goers heard any 
other cantatrice much lauded, they would say : " Ah, you 
should have heard the Campaneo ! Such a voice ! She 
rose to the highest D as easily as she breathed. And such 
glorious eyes ! " 



^HILE Rosabella was thus exchanging the laurel 
crown for the myrtle wreath, Flora and her friend 
were on their way to search the places that had formerly 
known her. Accompanied by Mr. Jacobs, who had long 
been a steward in her family, Mrs. Delano passed through 
Savannah, without calling on her friend Mrs. Welby, and 
in a hired boat proceeded to the island. Flora almost flew 
over the ground, so great was her anxiety to reach the cot- 
tage. Nature, which pursues her course with serene indif- 
ference to human vicissitudes, wore the same smiling aspect 
it had worn two years before, when she went singing 
through the woods, like Cinderella, all unconscious of the 
beneficent fairy she was to meet there in the form of a 
new Mamita. Trees and shrubs were beautiful with young, 
glossy foliage. Pines and firs offered their aromatic in- 
cense to the sun. Birds were singing, and bees gathering 
honey from the wild-flowers. A red-headed woodpecker 
was hammering away on the umbrageous tree under which 
Flora used to sit while busy with her sketches. He cocked 
his head to listen as they approached, and, at first sight of 
them, flew up into the clear blue air, with undulating swift- 
ness. To Flora's great disappointment, they found all the 
doors fastened ; but Mr. Jacobs entered by a window and 
opened one of them. The cottage Jiad evidently been de- 
serted for a considerable time. Spiders had woven their 
tapestry in all the corners. A pane had apparently been 
cut out of the window their attendant had opened^ and it 


afforded free passage to the birds. On a bracket of shell- 
work, which Flora had made to support a vase of flowers, 
was a deserted nest, bedded in soft green moss, which hung 
from it in irregular streamers and festoons. 

" How pretty ! " said Mrs. Delano. " If the little crea- 
ture had studied the picturesque, she could n't have devised 
anything more graceful. Let us take it, bracket and all, 
and carry it home carefully." 

" That was the very first shell-work I made after we 
came from Nassau," rejoined Flora. " I used to put fresh 
flowers on it every morning, to please Rosa. Poor Rosa ! 
Where can she be?" 

She turned away her head, and was silent for a moment. 
Then, pointing to the window, she said : " There 's that 
dead pine-tree I told you I used to call Old Man of the 
Woods. He is swinging long pennants of moss on his 
arms, just as he did when I was afraid to look at him in 
the moonlight." 

She was soon busy with a heap of papers swept into a 
corner of the room she used to occupy. They were cov- 
ered with sketches of leaves and flowers, and embroidery- 
patterns, and other devices with which she had amused 
herself in those days. Among them she was delighted to 
find the head and shoulders of Thistle, with a garland round 
his neck. In Rosa's sleeping-room, an old music-book, 
hung with cobwebs, leaned against the wall. 

" O Mamita Lila, I am glad to find this ! " exclaimed 
Flora. " Here is what Rosa and I used to sing to dear 
papa when we were ever so little. He always loved old- 
fashioned music. Here are some of Jackson's canzonets, 
that were his favorites." She began to hum, " Time has 
not thinned my flowing hair." " Here is Dr. Arne's 


' Sweet Echo.' Rosa used to play and sing that beauti- 
fully. And here is what he always liked to have us sing 
to him at sunset. We sang it to him the very night before 
he died." She began to warble, " Now Phoebus sinketh 
in the west." " Why, it seems as if I were a little girl 
again, singing to Papasito and Mamita," said she. 

Looking up, she saw that Mrs. Delano had covered her 
face with her handkerchief; and closing the music-book, 
she nestled to her side, affectionately inquiring what had 
troubled her. For a little while her fx-iend pressed her 
hand in silence. 

" O darling," said she, " what a strange, sad gift is mem- 
ory ! I sang that to your father the last time we ever saw 
the sunset together ; and perhaps when he heard it he 
used to see me sometimes, as plainly as I now see him. It 
is consoling to think he did not quite forget me." 

" When we go home > I will sing it to you every evening 
if you would like it, Mamita Lila," said Flora. 

Her friend patted her head fondly, and said : " You must 
finish your researches soon, darling ; for I think we had 
better go to Magnolia Lawn to see if Tom and Chloe can 
be found." 

" How shall we get there ? It 's too far for you to walk, 
and poor Thistle 's gone," said Flora. 

" I have sent Mr. Jacobs to the plantation," replied Mrs. 
Delano, " and I think he will find some sort of vehicle. 
Meanwhile, you had better be getting together any little 
articles you want to carry away." 

As Flora took up the music-book, some of the loose 
leaves fell out, and with them came a sketch of Tulee's 
head, with the large gold hoops and the gay turban. 
" Here 's Tulee ! " shouted Flora. "It isn't well drawn, 



but it is like her. I '11 make a handsome picture from it, 
and frame it, and hang it by my bedside, where I can see 
it every morning. Dear, good Tulee ! How she jumped 
up and kissed us when we first arrived here. I suppose 
she thinks I am dead, and has cried a great deal about little 
Missy Flory. O, what would n't I give to see her IF 

She had peeped about everywhere, and was becoming 
very much dispirited with the desolation, when Mr. Jacobs 
came back with a mule and a small cart, which he said 
was the best conveyance he could procure. The jolting 
over hillocks, and the occasional grunts of the mule, made 
it an amusing ride ; but it was a fruitless one. The plan- 
tation negroes were sowing cotton, but all Mr. Fitzgerald's 
household servants were leased out in Savannah during his 
absence in Europe. The white villa at Magnolia Lawn 
peeped out from its green surroundings ; but the jalousies 
were closed, and the tracks on the carriage-road were 
obliterated by rains. 

Hiring a negro to go with them to take back the cart, 
they made the best of their way to the boat, which was 
waiting for them. Fatigued and disconsolate with their 
fruitless search, they felt little inclined to talk as they 
glided over the bright waters. The negro boatmen fre- 
quently broke in upon the silence with some simple, wild 
melody, which they sang in perfect unison, dipping their 
oars in rhythm. When Savannah came in sight, they 
urged the boat faster, and, improvising words to suit the 
occasion, they sang in brisker strains : — 

" Row, darkies, row ! 

See de sun down dar am creepin' ; 
Row, darkies, row ! 

Hab white ladies in yer keepin* ; 
Row, darkies, row ! " 


With the business they had on hand, Mrs. Delano preferred 
not to seek her friends in the city, and they took lodgings 
at a hotel. Early the next morning, Mr. Jacobs was sent 
out to ascertain the whereabouts of Mr. Fitzgerald's ser- 
vants ; and Mrs. Delano proposed that, during his absence, 
they should drive to The Pines, which she described as an 
extremely pleasant ride. Flora assented, with the indiffer- 
ence of a preoccupied mind. But scarcely had the horses 
stepped on the thick carpet of pine foliage with which the 
ground was strewn, when she eagerly exclaimed, " Tom ! 
Tom ! " A black man, mounted on the seat of a carriage 
that was passing them, reined in his horses and stopped. 

" Keep quiet, my dear," whispered Mrs. Delano to her 
companion, " till I can ascertain who is in the carriage." 

a Are you Mr. Fitzgerald's Tom ? " she inquired. 

" Yes, Missis," replied the negro, touching his hat. 

She beckoned him to come and open her carriage-door, 
and, speaking in a low voice, she said : " I want to ask you 
about a Spanish lady who used to live in a cottage, not far 
from Mr. Fitzgerald's plantation. She had a black ser- 
vant named Tulee, who used to call her Missy Rosy. We 
went to the cottage yesterday, and found it shut up. Can 
you tell us where they have gone ? " 

Tom looked at them very inquisitively, and answered, 
" Dun no, Missis." 

" We are Missy Rosy's friends, and have come to bring 
her some good news. If you can tell us anything about 
her, I will give you this gold piece." 

Tom half stretched forth his hand to take the coin, then 
drew it back, and repeated, " Dunno, Missis." 

Flora, who felt her heart rising in her throat, tossed back 
her veil, and said, " Tom, don't you know me ? " 


The negro started as if a ghost had risen before him. 

" Now tell me where Missy Rosy has gone, and who 
went with her," said she, coaxingly. 

" Brcss yer, Missy Flory ! am yer alive ! " exclaimed the 
bewildered negro. 

Flora laughed, and, drawing off her glove, shook hands 
with him. " Now you know I 'm alive, Tom. But don't 
tell anybody. Where 's Missy Rosy gone." 

" O Missy," replied Tom, " dar am heap ob tings to 

Mrs. Delano suggested that it was not a suitable place ; 
and Tom said he must go home with his master's carriage. 
He told them he had obtained leave to go and see his wife 
Chloe that evening ; and he promised to come to their hotel 
first. So, with the general information that Missy Rosy 
and Tulee were safe, they parted for the present. 

Tom's communication in the evening was very long, and 
intensely interesting to his auditors ; but it did not extend 
beyond a certain point. He told of Rosa's long and dan- 
gerous illness ; of Chloe's and Tulee's patient praying and 
nursing ; of the birth of the baby ; of the sale to Mr. 
Bruteman ; and of the process by which she escaped with 
Mr. Duroy. Further than that he knew nothing. He had 
never been in New Orleans afterward, and had never 
heard Mr. Fitzgerald speak of Rosa. 

At that crisis in the conversation, Mrs. Delano sum- 
moned Mr. Jacobs, and requested him to ascertain when a 
steamboat would go to New Orleans. Flora kissed her 
hand, with a glance full of gratitude. Tom looked at her 
in a very earnest, embarrassed way, and said : " Missis, am 
yer one ob dem Ab-lish-nishts dar in de Norf, dat Massa 
s wars 'bout ? " 


Mrs. Delano turned toward Flora with a look of per- 
plexity, and, having received an interpretation of the ques- 
tion, she smiled as she answered : " I rather think I am 
half an Abolitionist, Tom. But why do you wish to 
know ? " 

Tom went on to state, in " lingo " that had to be fre- 
quently explained, that he wanted to run away to the 
North, and that he could manage to do it if it were not 
for Chloe and the children. He had been in hopes that 
Mrs. Fitzgerald would have taken her to the North to 
nurse her baby while she was gone to Europe. In that 
case, he intended to follow after ; and he thought some 
good people would lend them money to buy their little 
ones, and, both together, they could soon work off the 
debt. But this project had been defeated by Mrs. Bell, 
who brought a white nurse from Boston, and carried her 
infant grandson back with her. 

" Yer see, Missis," said Tom, with a sly look, " dey tinks 
de niggers don't none ob 'em w T ants dare freedom, so dey 
nebber totes 'em whar it be." 

Ever since that disappointment had occurred, he and his 
wife had resolved themselves into a committee of ways and 
means, but they had not yet devised any feasible mode of 
escape. And now they were thrown into great consterna- 
tion by the fact that a slave-trader had been to look at 
Chloe, because Mr. Fitzgerald wanted money to spend in 
Europe, and had sent orders to have some of his negroes 

Mrs. Delano told him she did n't see how she could help 
him, but she would think about it ; and Flora, with a side- 
way inclination of the head toward her, gave Tom an 
expressive glance, w 7 hich he understood as a promise to 


persuade her. He urged the matter no further, but asked 
what time it was. Being told it was near nine o'clock, he 
said he must hasten to Chloe, for it was not allowable for 
negroes to be in the street after that hour. 

He had scarcely closed the door, before Mrs. Delano said, 
" If Chloe is sold, I must buy her." 

" I thought you would say so," rejoined Flora. 

A discussion then took place as to ways and means, and 
a strictly confidential letter was written to a lawyer from 
the North, with whom Mrs. Delano was acquainted, re- 
questing him to buy the woman and her children for her, 
if they were to be sold. 

It happened fortunately that a steamer was going to 
New Orleans the next day. Just as they were going on 
board, a negro woman with two children came near, and, 
dropping a courtesy, said : " Skuse, Missis. Dis ere 's 
Chloe. Please say Ise yer nigger ! Do, Missis ! " 

Flora seized the black woman's hand, and pressed it, 
while she whispered : " Do, Mamita ! They 're going to 
sell her, you know." 

She took the children by the hand, and hurried forward 
without waiting for an answer. They were all on board 
before Mrs. Delano had time to reflect. Tom was no- 
where to be seen. On one side of her stood Chloe, with 
two little ones clinging to her skirts, looking at her implor- 
ingly with those great fervid eyes, and saying in suppressed 
tones, " Missis, dey 's gwine to sell me away from de chil- 
len"; and on the other side was Flora, pressing her hand, 
and entreating, " Don't send her back, Mamita ! She was 
so good to poor Rosa." 

" But, my dear, if they should trace her to me, it would 
be a very troublesome affair," said the perplexed lady. 


" They won't look for her in New Orleans. They '11 
think she 's gone North," urged Flora. 

During this whispered consultation, Mr. Jacobs ap- 
proached with some of their baggage. Mrs. Delano 
stopped him, and said : " When you register our names, 
add a negro servant and her two children." 

He looked surprised, but bowed and asked no questions. 
She was scarcely less surprised at herself. In the midst 
of her anxiety to have the boat start, she called to mind 
her former censures upon those who helped servants to 
escape from Southern masters, and she could not help 
smiling at the new dilemma in which she found herself. 

The search in New Orleans availed little. They alight- 
ed from their carriage a few minutes to look at the house 
where Flora was born. She pointed out to Mrs. Delano 
the spot whence her father had last spoken to her on that 
merry morning, and the grove where she used to pelt him 
with oranges ; but neither of them cared to enter the house, 
now that everything was so changed. Madame's house 
was occupied by strangers, who knew nothing of the pre- 
vious tenants, except that they were said to have gone to 
Europe to live. They drove to Mr. Duroy's, and found 
strangers there, who said the former occupants had all died 
of yellow-fever, - — the lady and gentleman, a negro woman, 
and a white baby. Flora was bewildered to find every 
link with her past broken and gone. She had not lived 
long enough to realize that the traces of human lives often 
disappear from cities as quickly as the ocean closes over 
the tracks of vessels. Mr. Jacobs proposed searching for 
some one who had been in Mr. Duroy's employ ; and with 
that intention, they returned to the city. As they were 
passing a house where a large bird-cage hung in the open 


window, Flora heard the words, " Petit hlanc, mon bon 
frere ! Ila ! ha ! " 

She called out to Mr. Jacobs, " Stop ! Stop ! ' and 
pushed at the carriage door, in her impatience to get out. 

" What is the matter, my child ? " inquired Mrs. Del- 

" That 's Madame's parrot," replied she ; and an instant 
after she was ringing at the door of the house. She told 
the servant they wished to make some inquiries concerning 
Signor and Madame Papanti> and Monsieur Duroy ; and 
she and Mrs* Delano were shown in to wait for the lady of 
the house. They had no sooner entered, than the parrot 
flapped her wings and cried out, " Bon jour, joli petit 
diable!" And then she began to whistle and warble, 
twitter and crow, through a ludicrous series of noisy varia- 
tions. Flora burst into peals of laughter, in the midst of 
which the lady of the house entered the room. " Excuse 
me, Madame," said she. " This parrot is an old acquaint- 
ance of mine. I taught her to imitate all sorts of birds, and 
she is showing me that she has not forgotten my lessons." 

" It will be impossible to hear ourselves speak, unless I 
cover the cage," replied the lady. 

" Allow me to quiet her, if you please/' rejoined Flora. 
She opened the door of the cage, and the bird hopped on 
her arm, flapping her wings, and crying, " Bon jour ! 
Ha! ha!" 

" Taisez vous,joIie Manon" said Flora soothingly, while 
she stroked the feathery head. The bird nestled close and 
was silent. 

When their errand was explained, the lady repeated the 
same story they had already heard about Mr. Duroy's 


" Was the black woman who died there named Tulee ? " 
inquired Flora. 

" I never heard her name but once or twice," replied the 
lady. " It was not a common negro name, and I think that 
was it. Madame Papanti had put her and the baby there 
to board. After Mr. Duroy died, his son came home from 
Arkansas to settle his affairs. My husband, who was one 
of Mr. Duroy's clerks, bought some of the things at auc- 
tion ; and among them was that parrot." 

"And what has become of Signor and Madame Papan- 
ti ? " asked Mrs. Delano. 

The lady could give no information, except that they had 
returned to Europe. Having obtained directions where to 
find her husband, they thanked her, and wished her good 

Flora held the parrot up to the cage, and said, " Bon 
jour,jolie Manon! " 

"Bon jour!* repeated the bird, and hopped upon her 

After they had entered the carriage, Flora said : " How 
melancholy it seems that everybody is gone, except Jolie 
Manon ! How glad the poor thing seemed to be to see 
me ! I wish I could take her home." 

" I will send to inquire whether the lady will sell her," 
replied her friend. 

" O Mamita, you will spoil me, you indulge me so 
much," rejoined Flora. 

Mrs. Delano smiled affectionately, as she answered : " If 
you were very spoilable, dear, I think that would have 
been done already." 

" But it will be such a bother to take care of Manon," 
said Flora. 



" Our new servant Chloe can do that," replied Mrs. 
Delano. " But I really hope we shall get home without 
an) 7 further increase of our retinue. " 

From the clerk information was obtained that he heard 
Mr. Duroy tell Mr. Bruteman that a lady named Rosabella 
Royal had sailed to Europe with Signor and Madame Pa- 
panti in the ship Mermaid. He added that news after- 
ward arrived that the vessel foundered at sea, and all on 
board were lost. 

With this sorrow on her heart, Flora returned to Bos- 
ton. Mr. Percival was immediately informed of their ar- 
rival, and hastened to meet them. When the result of their 
researches was told, he said : " I should n't be disheartened 
yet. Perhaps they did n't sail in the Mermaid. I will 
send to the New York Custom-House for a list of the pas- 

Flora eagerly caught at that suggestion ; and Mrs. Del- 
ano said, with a smile : " We have some other business in 
which we need your help. You must know that I am in- 
volved in another slave case. If ever a quiet and peace- 
loving individual was caught up and whirled about by a 
tempest of events, I am surely that individual. Before I 
met this dear little Flora, I had a fair prospect of living 
and dying a respectable and respected old fogy, as you ir- 
reverent reformers call discreet people. But now I find 
myself drawn into the vortex of abolition to the extent of 
helping off four fugitive slaves. In Flora's case, I acted 
deliberately, from affection and a sense of duty ; but in this 
second instance I was taken by storm, as it were. The 
poor woman was aboard before I knew it, and I found my- 
self too weak to withstand her imploring looks and Flora's 
pleading tones." She went on to describe the services 


Chloe had rendered to Rosa, and added : " I will pay any 
expenses necessary for conveying this woman to a place of 
safety, and supplying all that is necessary for her and her 
children, until she can support them ; but I do not feel as 
if she were safe here." 

" If you will order a carriage, I will take them directly 
to the house of Francis Jackson, in Hollis Street," said Mr. 
Percival. " They will be safe enough under the protection 
of that honest, sturdy friend of freedom. His house is the 
depot of various subterranean railroads ; and I pity the 
slaveholder who tries to get on any of his tracks. He finds 
himself ' like a toad under a harrow, where ilka tooth gies 
him a tug,' as the Scotch say." 

While waiting for the carriage, Chloe and her children 
were brought in. Flora took the little ones under her care, 
and soon had their aprons filled with cakes and sugar- 
plums. Chloe, unable to restrain her feelings, dropped 
down on her knees in the midst of the questions they were 
asking her, and poured forth an eloquent prayer that the 
Lord would bless these good friends of her down-trodden 

When the carriage arrived, she rose, and, taking Mrs. 
Delano's hand, said solemnly : " De Lord bress yer, Missis ! 
De Lord bress yer ! I seed yer once fore ebber I knowed 
yer. I seed yer in a vision, when I war prayin' to de Lord 
to open de free door fur me an' my chillen. Ye war an 
angel wid white shiny* wings. Bress de Lord ! 'T war 
Him dat sent yer. — An' now, Missy Flory, de Lord bress 
yer ! Ye war allers good to poor Chloe, down dar in de 
.prison-house. Let me gib yer a kiss, little Missy." 

Flora threw her arms round the bended neck, and prom- 
ised to go and see her wherever she was. 


When the carriage rolled away, emotion kept them both 
silent for a few minutes. " How strange it seems to me 
now," said Mrs. Delano, " that I lived so many years with- 
out thinking of the wrongs of these poor people ! I used 
to think prayer-meetings for slaves were very fanatical and 
foolish. It seemed to me enough that they were included 
in our prayer for ' all classes and conditions of men ' ; but 
after listening to poor Chloe's eloquent outpouring, I am 
afraid such generalizing will sound rather cold." 

" Mamita," said Flora, " you know you gave me some 
money to buy a silk dress. Are you willing I should use 
it to buy clothes for Chloe and her children ? " 

" More than willing, my child," she replied. " There is 
no clothing so beautiful as the raiment of righteousness." 

The next morning, Flora went out to make her pur- 
chases. Some time after, Mrs. Delano, hearing voices near 
the cloor, looked out, and saw her in earnest conversation 
with Florimond Blumenthal, who had a large parcel in his 
arms. When she came in, Mrs. Delano said, " So you had 
an escort home ? " 

" Yes, Mamita," she replied ; " Florimond would bring 
the parcel, and so we walked together." 

" He was very polite," said Mrs. Delano ; "but ladies 
are not accustomed to stand on the doorstep talking with 
clerks who bring bundles for them." 

"I did n't think anything about that," rejoined Flora. 
" He wanted to know about Rosa* and I wanted to tell 
him. Florimond seems just like a piece of my old home, 
because he loved papa so much. Mamita Lila, did n't you 
say papa was a poor clerk when you and he first began to 
love one another ? " 

" Yes, my child/' she replied ; and she kissed the bright, 


innocent face that came bending over her, looking so frank- 
ly into hers. 

When she had gone out of the room, Mrs. Delano said 
to herself, " That darling child, with her strange history 
and unworldly ways, is educating me more than I can edu- 
cate her." 

A week later, Mr. and Mrs. Percival came, with tidings 
that no such persons as Signor and Madame Papanti were 
on board the Mermaid ; and they proposed writing letters 
of inquiry forthwith to consuls in various parts of Italy 
and France. 

Flora began to hop and skip and clap her hands. But 
she soon paused, and said, laughingly : " Excuse me, ladies 
and gentlemen. Mamita often tells me I was brought up 
in a bird-cage ; and I ask her how then can she expect me 
to do anything but hop and sing. Excuse me. I forgot 
Mamita and I were not alone." 

" You pay us the greatest possible complimeni," rejoined 
Mr. Percival. 

And Mrs. Percival added, " I hope you will always for- 
get it when we are here." 

" Do you really wish it ? " asked Flora, earnestly. " Then 
I will." 

And so, with a few genial friends, an ever-deepening at- 
tachment between her and her adopted mother, a hopeful 
feeling at her heart about Posa, Tulee's likeness by Ler 
bedside, and Madame's parrot to wish her Bon jour ! 
Boston came to seem to her like a happy home. 




ABOUT two months after their return from the South, 
Mr. Percival called one evening, and said : " Do you 
know Mr. Brick, the police-officer? I met him just now, and 
he stopped me. ' There 's plenty of work for you Abolitionists 
now-a-days,' said he. ' There are five Southerners at the 
Tremont, inquiring for runaways, and cursing Garrison. 
An agent arrived last night from Fitzgerald's plantation, — 
he that married Bell's daughter, you know. He sent for me 
to give me a description of a nigger that had gone off in a 
mysterious way to parts unknown. He wanted me to try 
to find the fellow, and, of course, I did ; for I always cal- 
culate to do my duty, as the law directs. So I went im- 
mediately to Father Snowdoif, and described the black 
man, and informed him that his master had sent for him, in 
a great hurry. I told him I thought it very likely he was 
lurking somewhere in Belknap Street ; and if he would 
have the goodness to hunt him up, I would call, in the 
course of an hour or two, td see what luck he had.' " 

" Who is Father Snowdon ?**' inquired Mrs. Delano. 

" He is the colored preacher in Belknap Street Church," 
replied Mr. Percival, " and a remarkable man in his way. 
He fully equals Chloe in prayer ; and he is apt to com- 
mend the ship Buzzard to the especial attention of the 
Lord. The first time I entered his meeting, he was saying, 
in a loud voice, 'We pray thee, O Lord, to bless her 
Majesty's good ship, the Buzzard ; and if there 's a slave- 
trader now on the coast of Africa, we pray thee, 



Lord, to blow her straight under the lee of the Buz- 
zard/ He has been a slave himself, and he has per- 
haps helped off more slaves than any man in the country. 
I doubt whether Garrick himself had greater power to dis- 
guise his countenance. If a slaveholder asks him about a 
slave, he is the most stolid-looking creature imaginable. 
You would n't suppose he understood anything, or ever 
could understand anything. But if he meets an Abolition- 
ist a minute after, his black face laughs all over, and his 
roguish eyes twinkle like diamonds, while he recounts how 
he ' come it ' over the Southern gentleman. That bright 
soul of his is a jewel set in ebony." 

" It seems odd that the police-officer should apply to 
him to catch a runaway," said Mrs. Delano. 

" That 's the fun of it," responded Mr. Percival. " The 
extinguishers are themselves taking fire. The fact is, Bos- 
ton policemen don't feel exactly in their element as slave- 
hunters. They are too near Bunker Hill ; and on the 
Fourth of July they are reminded of the Declaration of 
Independence, which, though it is going out of fashion, is 
still regarded by a majority of the people as a venerable 
document. Then they have Whittier's trumpet-tones ring- 
ing in their ears, — 

' No slave hunt in our borders ! no pirate on our strand ! 
No fetters in the Bay State ! no slave upon our land ! ' " 

" How did Mr. Brick describe Mr. Fitzgerald's runaway 
slave ? " inquired Flora. 

" He said he was tall and yevy black, with a white scar 
over his right eye." 

" That 's Tom ! " exclaimed she. " How glad Chloe will 
be ! But I wonder he did n't come here the first thing. 


We could have told him how well she was getting on in 
New Bedford." 

" Father Snowdon will tell him all about that," rejoined 
Mr. Percival. " If Tom was in the city, he probably kept 
him closely hidden, on account of the number of Southern- 
ers who have recently arrived ; and after the hint the po- 
lice-officer gave him, he doubtless hustled him out of town 
in the quickest manner." 

" I want to hurrah for that policeman," said Flora ; " but 
Mamita would think I was a very rude young lady, or 
rather that I was no lady at all. But perhaps you '11 let 
me sing hurrah, Mamita ? " 

Receiving a smile for answer, she flew to the piano, and, 
improvising an accompaniment to herself, she began to 
sing hurrah ! through all manner of variations, high and 
low, rapidly trilled and slowly prolonged, now bursting 
full upon the ear, now receding in the distance. It was 
such a lively fantasia, that it made Mr. Percival laugh, 
while Mrs. Delano's face was illuminated by a quiet 

In the midst of the merriment, the door-bell rang. Flora 
started from the piano, seized her worsted-work, and said, 
" Now, Mamita, I 'm ready to receive company like a pink 
of propriety." But the change was so sudden, that her eyes 
were still laughing when Mr. Green entered an instant 
after; and lie again caught that archly demure expression 
which seemed to him so fascinating. The earnestness of 
his salutation was so different from his usual formal polite- 
ness, that Mrs. Delano could not fail to observe it. The 
conversation turned upon incidents of travel after they had 
parted so suddenly. " I shall never cease to regret," said 
he, •* that you missed hearing La Seiiorita Campaneo. 


She was a most extraordinary creature. Superbly hand- 
some ; and do you know, Miss Delano, I now and then 
caught a look that reminded me very much of you. Un- 
fortunately, you have lost your chance to hear her. For 
Mr. King, the son of our Boston millionnaire, who has lately 
been piling up money in the East, persuaded her to quit 
the stage when she had but just started in her grand ca- 
reer. All the musical world in Rome were vexed with 
him for preventing her re-engagement. As for Fitzgerald, 
I believe he would have shot him if he could have found 
him. It was a purely musical disappointment, for he was 
never introduced to the fascinating Senorita ; but he fairly 
pined upon it. I told him the best way to drive off the 
blue devils would be to go with me and a few friends to 
the Grotta Azzura. So off we started to Naples, and 
thence to Capri. The grotto was one of the. few novelties 
remaining for me in Ttaly. I had heard much of it, but the 
reality exceeded all descriptions. We seemed to be actu- 
ally under the sea in a palace of gems. Our boat glided 
over a lake of glowing sapphire, and our oars dropped 
rubies. High above our heads were great rocks of sap- 
phire, deepening to lapis-lazuli at the base, with here and 
there a streak of malachite." 

" It seems like Aladdin's Cave," remarked Flora. 

" Yes," replied Mr. Green ; " only it was Aladdin's Cave 
undergoing a wondrous ' sea change.' A poetess, who writes 
for the papers under the name of Melissa Mayflower, had 
fastened herself upon our party in some way ; and I sup- 
pose she felt bound to sustain the reputation of the quill. 
She said the Nereids must have built that marine pal- 
ace, and decorated it for a visit from fairies of the rain- 

12* r 


" That was a pretty thought," said Flora. " It sounds 
like < Lalla Rookh.' " 

" It was a pretty thought," rejoined the gentleman, " but 
can give you no idea of the unearthly splendor. I thought 
how you would have been delighted if you had been with 
our party. I regretted your absence almost as much as I 
did at the opera. But the Blue Grotto, wonderful as it 
was, did n't quite drive away Fitzgerald's blue devils, 
though it made him forget his vexations for the time. The 
fact is, just as we started he received a letter from his 
agent, informing him of the escape of a negro woman and 
her two children ; and he spent most of the way back to 
Naples swearing at the Abolitionists." 

Flora, the side of whose face was toward him, gave Mrs. 
Delano a furtive glance full of fun ; but he saw nothing of 
the mischief in her expressive face, except a little whirl- 
pool of a dimple, which played about her mouth for an in- 
stant, and then subsided. A very broad smile was on 
Mr. Percival's face, as he sat examining some magnifi- 
cent illustrations of the Alhambra. Mr. Green, quite un- 
conscious of the by-play in their thoughts, went on to 
say, " It is really becoming a serious evil that Southern 
gentlemen have so little security for that species of prop- 

" Then you consider women and children property ? " 
inquired Mr. Percival, looking up from his book. 

Mr. Green bowed with a sort of mock deference, and 
replied: "Pardon me, Mr. Percival, it is so unusual for 
gentlemen of your birth and position to belong to the 
Abolition troop of rough-riders, that I may be excused for 
not recollecting it." 

" I should consider my birth and position great misfor- 


times, if they blinded me to the plainest principles of truth 
and justice," rejoined Mr. Perciva.1. 

The highly conservative gentleman made no reply, but 
rose to take leave. 

" Did your friends the Fitzgeralds return with you ? " 
inquired Mrs. Delano. 

" No," replied he. " They intend to remain until Oc- 
tober, Good evening, ladies. I hope soon to have the 
pleasure of seeing you again." And with an inclination 
of the head toward Mr. Percival, he departed. 

" Why did you ask him that question ? " said Flora. 
" Are you afraid of anything ? " 

" Not in the slightest degree," answered Mrs. Delano. 
" If, without taking much trouble, we can avoid your being 
recognized by Mr. Fitzgerald, I should prefer it, because I 
do not wish to have any conversation with him. But now 
that your sister's happiness is no longer implicated, there 
is no need of caution. If he happens to see you, I shall 
tell him you sought my protection, and that he has no legal 
power over you." 

The conversation diverged to the Alhambra and Wash- 
ington Irving ; and Flora ended the evening by singing the 
Moorish ballad of " Xarifa," which she said always brought 
a picture of Rosabella before her eyes. 

The next morning, Mr. Green called earlier than usual. 
He did not ask for Flora, whom he had in fact seen in the 
street a few minutes before. " Excuse me, Mrs. Delano, 
for intruding upon you at such an unseasonable hour," said 
he. " I chose it because I wished to be sure of seeing you 
alone. You must have observed that I am greatly inter- 
ested in your adopted daughter." 

" The thought has crossed my mind," replied the lady ; 


" but I was by no means certain that she interested you 
more than a very pretty girl must necessarily interest a 
gentleman of taste." 

" Pretty ! " repeated he. " That is a very inadequate 
word to describe the most fascinating young lady I have 
ever met. She attracts me so strongly, that I have called 
to ask your permission to seek her for a wife." 

Mrs. Delano hesitated for a moment, and then answered, 
" It is my duty to inform you that she is not of high family 
on the father's side ; and on the mother's, she is scarcely 
what you would deem respectable." 

" Has she vulgar, disagreeable relations, who would be 
likely to be intrusive ? " he asked. 

" She has no relative, near or distant, that I know of," 
replied the lady. 

" Then her birth is of no consequence," he answered. 
"My family would be satisfied to receive her as your 
daughter. I am impatient to introduce her to my mother 
and sisters, who I am sure will be charmed with her." 

Mrs. Delano was embarrassed, much to the surprise of 
her visitor, who was accustomed to consider his wealth and 
social position a prize that would be eagerly grasped at. 
After watching her countenance for an instant, he said, 
somewhat proudly: "You do not seem to receive my pro- 
posal very cordially, Mrs. Delano. Have you anything to 
object to my character or family ? " 

"Certainly not," replied the lady. "My doubts are 
concerning my daughter." 

" Is she engaged, or partially engaged, to another?" he 

" She is not," rejoined Mrs. Delano ; " though I imagine 
she is not quite ' fancy free.' " 


" Would it be a breach of confidence to tell me who has 
been so fortunate as to attract her ? " 

" Nothing of the kind has ever been confided to me," an- 
swered the lady. " It is merely an imagination of my own, 
and relates to a person unknown to you." 

" Then I will enter the lists with my rival, if there is 
one," said he. " Such a prize is not to be given up with- 
out an effort. But you have not yet said that I have your 

" Since you are. so persistent," rejoined Mrs. Delano, " I 
will tell you a secret, if you will pledge your honor, as a 
gentleman, never to repeat it, or hint at it, to any mortal." 

" I pledge my honor," he replied, " that whatever you 
choose to tell me shall be sacred between us." 

" It is not pleasant to tell the story of Flora's birth," 
responded she; " but under present circumstances it seems 
to be a duty. When I have informed you of the facts, you 
are free to engage her affections if you can. On the pa- 
ternal side, she descends from the French gentry and the 
Spanish nobility ; but her mother was a quadroon slave, 
and she herself was sold as a slave." 

Mr. Green bowed his head upon his hand, and spoke no 
word. Drilled to conceal his emotions, he seemed out- 
wardly calm, though it cost him a pang to relinquish the 
captivating young creature, who he felt would have made 
his life musical, though by piquant contrast rather than 
by harmony. After a brief, troubled silence, he rose and 
walked toward the window, as if desirous to avoid looking 
the lady in the face. After a while, he said, slowly, " Do 
you deem it quite right, Mrs. Delano, to pass such a coun- 
terfeit on society ? " 

"I have attempted to pass no counterfeit on society," she 


replied, with dignity. " Flora is a blameless and accom- 
plished young lady. Her beauty and vivacity captivated 
me before I knew anything of her origin ; and in the same 
way they have captivated you. She was alone in the 
world, and I was alone ; and we adopted each other. I 
have never sought to introduce her into society ; and so 
far as relates to yourself, I should have told you these facts 
sooner if I had known the state of your feelings ; but so 
long as they were not expressed, it would scarcely have 
been delicate for me to take them for granted." 

" Very true," rejoined the disenchanted lover. " You 
certainly had a right to choose a daughter for yourself; 
though I could hardly have imagined that any amount 
of attraction would have overcome such obstacles in the 
mind of a lady of your education and refined views of life. 
Excuse my using the word ' counterfeit.' I was slightly 
disturbed when it escaped me." 

" It requires no apology," she replied. " I am aware 
that society would take the same view of my proceeding 
that you do. As for my education, I have learned to con- 
sider it as, in many respects, false. As for my views, they 
have been greatly modified by this experience. I have 
learned to estimate people and things according to their real 
value, not according to any merely external accidents." 

Mr. Green extended his hand, saying : " I will bid you 
farewell, Mrs. Delano ; for, under existing circumstances, 
it becomes necessary to deny myself the pleasure of again 
calling upon- you. I must seek to divert my mind by new 
travels, I hardly know where. I have exhausted Europe, 
having been there three times. I have often thought I 
should like to look on the Oriental gardens and bright wa- 
ters of Damascus. Everything is so wretchedly new, and 


so disagreeably fast, in this country ! It must be refreshing 
to see a place that has known no changes for three thou- 
sand years." 

They clasped hands with mutual adieus ; and the unfor- 
tunate son of wealth, not knowing what to do in a country 
full of noble work, went forth to seek a new sensation in 
the slow-moving caravans of the East. 

A few days afterward, when Flora returned from taking 
a lesson in oil-colors, she said : " How do you suppose I 
have offended Mr. Green ? When I met him just now, 
he touched his hat in a very formal way, and passed on, 
though I was about to speak to him." 

" Perhaps he was in a hurry," suggested Mrs. Delano. 

" No, it was n't that," rejoined Flora. " He did just so 
day before yesterday, and he can't always be in a hurry. 
Besides, you know he is never in a hurry ; he is too much 
of a gentleman." 

Her friend smiled as she answered, " You are getting to 
be quite a judge of aristocratic manners, considering you 
were brought up in a bird-cage." 

The young girl was not quite so ready as usual with a 
responsive smile. She went on to say, in a tone of per- 
plexity : " What can have occasioned such a change in his 
manner ? You say I am sometimes thoughtless about 
politeness. Do you think I have offended him in any 
way ? " 

" Would it trouble you very much if you had ? " inquired 
Mrs. Delano. 

" Not very much," she replied ; " but I should be sorry 
if he thought me rude to him, when he was so very polite 
to us in Europe. What is it, Mamita ? I think you know 
something about it." 


" I did not tell you, my child," replied she, " because I 
thought it would be unpleasant. But you keep no secrets 
from me, and it is right that I should be equally open- 
hearted with you. Did you never suspect that Mr. Green 
was in love with you ? " 

" The thought never occurred to me till he called here 
that first evening after his return from Europe. Then, 
when he took my hand, he pressed it a little. I thought it 
was rather strange in such a formal gentleman ; but I did 
not mention it to you, because I feared you would think me 
vain. But if he is in love with me, why don't he tell me 
so ? And why does he pass me without speaking ? " 

Her friend replied : " He deemed it proper to tell me 
first, and ask my consent to pay his addresses to you. As 
he persisted very urgently, I thought it my duty to tell him, 
under the seal of secrecy, that you were remotely connected 
with the colored race. The announcement somewhat dis- 
turbed his habitual composure. He said he must deny 
himself the pleasure of calling again. He proposes to go 
to Damascus, and there I hope he will forget his disap- 

Flora flared up as Mrs. Delano had never seen her. 
She reddened to the temples, and her lip curled scorn- 
fully. u He is a mean man ! " she exclaimed. " If he 
thought that I myself was a suitable wife for his serene 
highness, what had my great-grandmother to do with it ? 
I wish he had asked me to marry him. T should like to 
have him know I never cared a button about him ; and 
that, if I did n't care for him, I should consider it more 
shameful to sell myself for his diamonds, than it would have 
been to have been sold for a slave by papa's creditors when 
I could n't help myself. I am glad you don't feel like 


going into parties, Mamita ; and if you ever do feel like it, 
I hope you will leave me at home. I don't want to be in- 
troduced to any of these cold, aristocratic Bostonians." 

" Not all of them cold and aristocratic, darling," replied 
Mrs. Delano. " Your Mamita is one of them ; and she is 
becoming less cold and aristocratic every day, thanks to a 
little Cinderella who came to her singing through the 
woods, two years ago." 

" And who found a fairy godmother," responded Flora, 
subsiding into a tenderer tone. " It is ungrateful for me 
to say anything against Boston ; and with such friends as 
the Percivals too. But it does seem mean that Mr. Green, 
if he really liked me, should decline speaking to me be- 
cause my great-grandmother had a dark complexion. I 
never knew the old lady, though I dare say I should love 
her if I did know her. Madame used to say Rosabella in- 
herited pride from our Spanish grandfather. I think I 
have some of it, too ; and it makes me shy of being intro- 
duced to your stylish acquaintance, who might blame you 
if they knew all about me. I like people who do know all 
about me, and who like me because I am I. That 's one 
reason why I like Florimond. He admired my mother, 
and loved my father ; and he thinks just as well of me as 
if I had never been sold for a slave." 

" Do you always call him Florimond ? " inquired Mrs. 

"I call him Mr. Blumenthal before folks, and he calls 
me Miss Delano. But when no one is by, he sometimes 
calls me Miss Royal, because he says he loves that name, 
for the sake of old times ; and then I call him Blumen, 
partly for short, and partly because his cheeks are so pink, 
it conies natural. He likes to have me call him so. He 


says Flora is the Gottinn der Blumen in German, and so I 
am the Goddess of Blumen. 

Mrs. Delano smiled at these small scintillations of wit, 
which in the talk of lovers sparkle to them like diamond- 
dust in the sunshine. 

" Has he ever told you that he loved you as well as your 
name ? " asked she. 

" He never said so, Mamita ; but I think he does," re- 
joined Ijlora. 

" What reason have you to think so ? " inquired her 

" He wants very much to come here," replied the young 
lady ; " but he is extremely modest. He says he knows he 
is not suitable company for such a rich, educated lady as 
you are. He is taking dancing-lessons, and lessons on the 
piano, and he is studying French and Italian and history, 
and all sorts of things. And he says he means to make a 
mint of money, and then perhaps he can come here some- 
times to see me dance, and hear me play on the piano." 

"I by no "means require that all my acquaintance should 
make a mint of money," answered Mrs. Delano. " I am 
very much pleased with the account you give of this young 
Biumenthal. When you next see him, give him my com- 
pliments, and tell him I should be happy to become ac- 
quainted with him." 

Flora dropped on her knees and hid her face in her 
friend's lap. She did n't express her thanks in words, but 
she cried a little. 

" This is more serious than I supposed," thought Mrs. 

A fortnight afterward, she obtained an interview with 
Mr. Gold win, and asked, " What is your estimate of that 


young Mr. Blumenthal, who has been for some time in 
your employ ? " 

" He is a modest young man, of good habits," answered 
the merchant ; " and of more than common business ca- 

" Would you be willing to receive him as a partner ? : 
she inquired. 

" The young man is poor," rejoined Mr. Goldwin ; " and 
we have many applications from those who can advance 
some capital." 

" If a friend would loan him ten thousand dollars for 
twenty years, and leave it to him by will in case she should 
die meanwhile, would that be sufficient to induce you ? ' 
said the lady. 

" I should be glad to do it, particularly if it obliges you, 
Mrs. Delano," responded the merchant; "for I really think 
him a very worthy young man." 

" Then consider it settled," she replied. " But let it be 
an affair between ourselves, if you please ; and to him you 
may merely say that a friend of his former employer and 
benefactor wishes to assist him." 

When Blumenthal informed Flora of this unexpected 
good-fortune, they of course suspected from whom it came ; 
and they looked at each other, and blushed. 

Mrs. Delano did not escape gossiping remarks. " Plow 
she has changed ! " said Mrs. Ton to Mrs. Style. " She 
used to be the most fastidious of exclusives ; and now she 
has adopted nobody knows whom, and one of Mr. Gold- 
wirr's clerks seems to be on the most familiar footing there. 
1 should have no objection to invite 'the girl to my parties, 
for she is Mrs. Delano's adoptee, and she would really be 
an ornament to my rooms, besides being very convenient 


and an accomplished musician ; but, of course, I don't wish 


rny daughters to be introduced to that nobody of a clerk." 

" She has taken up several of the Abolitionists too," re- 
joined Mrs. Style. " My husband looked into an anti- 
slavery meeting the other evening, partly out of curiosity 
to hear what Garrison had to say, and partly in hopes of 
obtaining some clew to a fugitive slave that one of his 
Southern friends had written to him about. And who 
should he see there, of all people in the world, but Mrs. 
Delano and her adoptee, escorted by that young clerk. 
Think of her, with her dove-colored silks and violet gloves, 
crowded and jostled by Dinah and Sambo ! I expect the 
next thing we shall hear will be that she has given a negro 

" In that case, I presume she will choose to perfume her 
embroidered handkerchiefs with musk, or pachouli, instead 
of her favorite breath of violets," responded Mrs. Ton. 

And, smiling at their wit, the fashionable ladies parted, 
to quote it from each other as among the good things they 
had recently heard. 

Only the faint echoes of such remarks reached Mrs. 
Delano ; though she was made to feel, in many small ways, 
that she had become a black sheep in aristocratic circles. 
But these indications passed by her almost unnoticed, 
occupied as she was in earnestly striving to redeem the 
mistakes of the past by making the best possible use of the 




N interval of nineteen years elapsed, bringing with 
them various changes to the personages of this story. 
A year after Mr. Fitzgerald's return from Europe, a feud 
sprang up between him and his father-in-law, Mr. Bell, 
growing out of his dissipated and spendthrift habits. His 
intercourse with Boston was consequently suspended, and 
the fact of Flora's existence remained unknown to him. 
He died nine years after be witnessed the dazzling appari- 
tion of Rosa in Rome, and the history of his former rela- 
tion to her was buried with him, as were several other 
similar secrets. There w r as generally supposed to be some- 
thing mysterious about his exit. Those who were ac- 
quainted with Mr. Bell's family were aware that the mar- 
riage had been an unhappy one, and that there was an 
obvious disposition to hush inquiries concerning it. Mrs. 
Fitzgerald had always continued to spend her summers 
with her parents ; and having lost her mother about the- 
time of her widowhood, she became permanently estab- 
lished at the head of her father's household. She never 
in any way alluded to her married life, and always dis- 
missed the subject as briefly as possible, if any stranger 
touched upon it. Of three children, only one, her eldest, 
remained. Time had wrought changes in her person. 


Her once fairy-like figure was now too short for its fulness, 
and the blue eyes were somewhat dulled in expression ; 
but the fair face and the paly-gold tresses were still very 

When she had at last succeeded in obtaining an intro- 
duction to Flora, during one of her summer visits to Bos- 
ton, she had been very much captivated by her, and was 
disposed to rally Mr. Green about his diminished enthusi- 
asm, after he had fallen in love with a fair cousin of hers ; 
but that gentleman was discreetly silent concerning the 
real cause of his disenchantment. 

Mrs. Delano's nature was so much deeper than that of 
her pretty neighbor, that nothing like friendship could grow 
up between them ; but Mrs. Fitzgerald called occasionally, 
to retail gossip of the outer world, or to have what she 
termed a musical treat. 

Flora had long been Mrs. Blumenthal. At the time of 
her marriage, Mrs. Delano said she was willing to adopt a 
son, but not to part with a daughter; consequently, they 
formed one household. As years passed on, infant faces 
and lisping voices came into the domestic circle, — fresh 
little flowers in the floral garland of Mamita Lila's life. 
Alfred Royal, the eldest, was a complete reproduction, in 
person and character, of the grandfather whose name he 
bore. Rosa, three years younger, was quite as striking a 
likeness of her namesake. Then came two little ones, who 
soon went to live with the angels. And; lastly, there was 
the five-year-old pet, Lila, who inherited her father's blue 
eyes, pink cheeks, and flaxen hair. 

These children were told that their grandfather was a 
rich American merchant in New Orleans, and their errand- 
mother a beautiful and accomplished Spanish lady ; that 


their grandfather failed in business and died poor ; that his 
friend Mrs. Delano adopted their mother; and that they 
had a very handsome Aunt Rosti, who went to Europe with 
some good friends, and was lost at sea. It was not deemed 
wise to inform them of any further particulars, till time 
and experience had matured their characters and views 
of life. 

Applications to American consuls, in various places, for 
information concerning Signor and Madame Papanti had 
proved unavailing, in consequence of the Signor's change 
of name ; and Rosabella had long ceased to be anything 
but a very tender memory to her sister, whose heart was 
now completely filled with new objects of affection. The 
bond between her and her adopted mother strengthened 
with time, because their influence on each other was mu- 
tually improving to their characters. The affection and 
gayety of the young folks produced a glowing atmosphere 
in Mrs. Delano's inner life, as their mother's tropical taste 
warmed up the interior aspect of her dwelling. The fawn- 
colored damask curtains had given place to crimson; and 
in lieu of the silvery paper, the walls were covered with 
bird-of-paradise color, touched with golden gleams. The 
centre-table was covered w r ith crimson, embroidered with 
a gold-colored garland ; and the screen of the gas-light 
was a gorgeous assemblage of bright flowers. Mrs. Dela- 
no's lovely face was even more placid than it had been in 
earlier years; but there was a sunset brightness about it, 
as of one growing old in an atmosphere of love. The ash- 
colored hair, which Flora had fancied to be violet-tinged, 
was of a silky whiteness now, and fell in soft curls about 
the pale face. 

On the day when I again take up the thread of this 


story, she was seated in her parlor, in a dress of silvery- 
gray silk, which contrasted pleasantly with the crimson 
chair. Under her collar of Iloniton lace was an amethys- 
tine ribbon, fastened with a pearl pin. Her cap of rich 
white lace, made in the fashion of Mary Queen of Scots, 
was very slightly trimmed with ribbon of the same color, 
and fastened in front with a small amethyst set with pearls. 
For fanciful Flora had said : " Dear Mamita Lila, don't 
have everything about your dress cold white or gray. Do 
let something violet or lilac peep out from the snow, for 
the sake of ' auld lang syne.' " 

The lady was busy with some crochet-work, when a 
girl, apparently about twelve years old, came through the 
half-opened folding-doors, and settled on an ottoman at her 
feet. She had large, luminous dark eyes, very deeply 
fringed, and her cheeks were like ripened peaches. The 
dark mass of her wavy hair was gathered behind into what 
was called a Greek cap, composed of brown network 
strewn with gold beads. Here and there very small, thin 
dark curls strayed from under it, like the tendrils of a deli- 
cate vine ; and nestling close to each ear was a little dark, 
downy crescent, which papa called her whisker when he 
was playfully inclined to excite her juvenile indignation. 

" See! " said she. "This pattern comes all in a tangle. 
I have done the stitches wrong. Will you please to help 
me, Mamita Lila ? " 

Mrs. Delano looked up, smiling as she answered, " Let 
me see what the trouble is, Rosy Posy." 

Mrs. Blumenthal, who was sitting opposite, noticed with 
artistic eye what a charming contrast of beauty there was 
between that richly colored young face, with its crown of 
dark hair, and that pale, refined, symmetrical face, in its 


frame of silver. " What a pretty picture I could make, if 
I had my crayons here," thought she. " How gracefully 
the glossy folds of Mamita's gray dress fall over Rosa's 
crimson merino." 

She was not aware that she herself made quite as charm- 
ing a picture. The spirit of laughter still flitted over her 
face, from eyes to dimples ; her shining black curls were 
lighted up with a rope of cherry-colored chenille, hanging 
in a tassel at her ear ; and her graceful little figure showed 
to advantage in a neatly fitting dress of soft brown merino, 
embroidered with cherry-colored silk. On her. lap was lit- 
tle Lila, dressed in white and azure, with her fine flaxen 
carls tossed about by the motion of riding to " Banbury 
Cross." The child laughed and clapped her hands at every 
caper ; and if her steed rested for a moment, she called out 
impatiently, " More agin, mamma ! " 

But mamma was thinking of the picture she wanted to 
make, and at last she said : "We sha' n't get to Banbury 
Cross to-day, Lila Blumen ; so you must fall off your horse, 
darling, and nursey will take you, while I go to fetch my 
crayons." She had just taken her little pet by the hand to 
lead her from the room, when the door-bell rang. " That 's 
Mrs. Fitzgerald," said she. " I know, because she always 
rings an appoggiatura. Rosen Blumen, take sissy to the 
nursery, please." 

While the ladies were interchanging salutations with 
their visitor, Rosa passed out of the room, leading her little 
sister by the hand. " I declare," said Mrs. Fitzgerald, 
" that oldest daughter of yours, Mrs. Blumenthal, bears a 
striking resemblance to the cantatrice who was turning 
everybody's head when I was in Rome. You missed 
hearing her, I remember. Let me see, what was her 

13 s 


nomme de guerre ? I forget ; but it was something that sig- 
nified a bell, because there was a peculiar ringing in her 
voice. When I first saw your daughter, she reminded me 
of somebody I had seen ; but I never thought who it was 
till now. I came to tell you some news about the fascinat- 
ing Senorita ; and I suppose that brought the likeness to 
my mind. You know Mr. King, the son of our rich old 
merchant, persuaded her to leave the stage to marry him. 
They have been living in the South of France for some 
years, but he has just returned to Boston. They have 
taken rooms at the Revere House, while his father's house 
is being fitted up in grand style for their reception. The 
lady will of course be a great lioness. She is to make her 
first appearance at the party of my cousin, Mrs. Green. 
The winter is so nearly at an end, that I doubt whether 
there will be any more large parties this season ; and I 
would n't fail of attending this one on any account, if it 
were only for the sake of seeing her. She was the hand- 
somest creature I ever beheld. If you had ever seen her, 
you would consider it a compliment indeed to be told that 
your Rosa resembles her." 

" I should like to get a glimpse of her, if I could without 
the trouble of going to a party," replied Mrs. Blumenthal. 

" I will come the day after," rejoined Mrs. Fitzgerald, 
" and tell you how she was dressed, and whether she 
looks as handsome in the parlor as she did on the stage." 

After some more chat about reported engagements, and 
the probable fashions for the coming season, the lady took 
her leave. 


When she was gone, Mrs. Delano remarked : " Mrs. 
King must be very handsome if she resembles our Rosa. 
But I hope Mrs. Fitzgerald will not be so injudicious as to 


talk about it before the child. She is free from vanity, and 
I earnestly wish she may remain so. By the way, Flora, 
this Mr. King is your father's namesake, — the one who, 
you told me, called at your house in New Orleans, when 
you were a little girl." 

" I was thinking of that very thing," rejoined Mrs. Blu- 
menthal, " and I was just going to ask you his Christian 
name. I should like to call there to take a peep at his 
handsome lady, and see whether he would recollect me. 
If he did, it would be no matter. So many years have 
passed, and I am such an old story in Boston, that nobody 
will concern themselves about me." 

" I also should be rather pleased to call," said Mrs. 
Delano. " His father was a friend of mine ; and it was 
through him that I became acquainted with your father. 
They were inseparable companions when they were young 
men. Ah, how long ago that seems ! No wonder my hair 
is white. But please ring for Rosa, dear. I want to ar- 
range her pattern before dinner." 

" There 's the door-bell again, Mamita ! " exclaimed 
Flora ; " and a very energetic ring it is, too. Perhaps you 
had better wait a minute." 

The servant came in to say that a person from the coun- 
try wanted to speak with Mrs. Delano ; and a tall, stout 
man, with a broad face, full of fun, soon entered. Having 
made a short bow, he said, " Mrs. Delano, I suppose ? " 

The lady signified assent by an inclination of the head. 

" My name 's Joe Bright," continued he. " No relation 
of John Bright, the bright Englishman. Wish I was. I 
come from Northampton, ma'am. The keeper of the Man- 
sion House told me you wanted to get board there in some 
private family next summer ; and I called to tell you that 


I can let you have half of my house, furnished or not, just 
as you like. As I 'in plain Joe Bright the blacksmith, of 
course you won't find lace and damask, and such things as 
you have here." 

" All we wish for," rejoined Mrs. Delano, " is healthy 
air and wholesome food for the children." 

" Plenty of both, ma'am," replied the blacksmith. " And 
I guess you '11 like my wife. She ain't one of the kind that 
raises a great dust when she sweeps. She 's a still sort of 
body ; but she knows a deal more than she tells for." 

After a description of the accommodations he had to 
offer, and a promise from Mrs. Delano to inform him of her 
decision in a few days, he rose to go. But he stood, hat in 
hand, looking wistfully toward the piano. " Would if be 
too great a liberty, ma'am, to ask which of you ladies 
plays?" said he. 

" I seldom play," rejoined Mrs. Delano, " because my 
daughter, Mrs. Blumenthal, plays so much better." 

Turning toward Flora, he said, " I suppose it would be 
too much trouble to play me a tune ?■" 

" Certainly not," she replied ; and, seating herself at the 
piano, she dashed off, with voice and instrument, " The 
Campbells are coming, Oho ! Oho ! " 

" By George ! " exclaimed the blacksmith. " You was 
born to it, ma'am ; that 's plain enough. Well, it was just 
so with me. I took to music as a Newfoundland pup takes 
to the water. When my brother Sam and I were boys, we 
were let out to work for a blacksmith. We wanted a fid- 
dle dreadfully ; but we were too poor to buy one ; and we 
could n't have got much time to play on 't if we had had 
one, for our boss watched us as a weasel watches mice. 
But we were bent on getting music somehow. The boss 


always had plenty of iron links of all sizes, hanging in a 
row, ready to be made into chains when wanted, One day, 
I happened to hit one of the links with a piece of iron I 
had in my hand. ' By George ! Sam/ said I, ' that was Do.' 
' Strike again/ says he. ' Blow ! Sam, blow ! ' said I. I 
was afraid the boss would come in and find the iron cooling 
in the fire. So he kept blowing away, and I struck the link 
again. ' That 's Do, just as plain as my name 's Sam,' said he. 
A few days after, I said, l By George ! Sam, I 've found Sol/ 
4 So you have,' said he. ' Now let me try. Blow, Joe, 
blow ! ' Sam, he found Re and La. And in the course of 
two months we got so we could play Old Hundred. I don't 
pretend to say we could do it as glib as you run over the 
ivory, ma'am ; but it was Old Hundred, and no mistake. 
And we played Yankee Doodle, first rate. We called our 
instrument the Harmolinks ; and we enjoyed it all the more 
because it was our own invention. I tell you what, ma'am, 
there 's music hid away in everything, only we don't know 
how to bring it out." 

" I think so," rejoined Mrs. Blumenthal. " Music is 
a sleeping beauty, that needs the touch of a prince to 
waken her. Perhaps you will play something for us, Mr. 
Bright ? ' She rose and vacated the music-stool as she 

u I should be ashamed to try my clumsy fingers in your 
presence, ladies," he replied. " But I '11 sing the Star- 
spangled Banner, if you will have the goodness to accom- 
pany me." 

She reseated herself, and he lifted up his voice and 
sang. When he had done, he drew a long breath, wiped 
the perspiration from his face w T ith a bandana handkerchief, 
and laughed as he said : " I made the screen of your gas- 


light shake, ma'am. The fact is, when I sing that, I have 
to put all my heart into it." 

" And all your voice, too," rejoined Mrs. Blumenthal. 

" O, no," answered he, " I could have put on a good deal 
more steam, if I had n't been afraid of drowning the piano. 
I 'm greatly obliged to you, ladies ; and I hope I shall 
have the pleasure of hearing you again in my own house. 
I should like to hear some more now, but I 've stayed too 
long. My wife agreed to meet me at a store, and I don't 
know what she '11 say to me." 

" Tell her we detained you by playing to you," said Mrs. 

" O, that would be too much like Adam," rejoined he. 
" I always feel ashamed to look a woman in the face, after 
reading that story. I always thought Adam was a mean 
cuss to throw off all the blame on Eve." With a short bow, 
and a hasty " Good morning, ladies," he went out. 

His parting remark amused Flora so much, that she 
burst into one of her musical peals of laughter ; while her 
more cautious friend raised her handkerchief to her mouth, 
lest their visitor should hear some sound of mirth, and mis- 
take its import. 

" What a great, beaming face ! " exclaimed Flora. " It 
looks like a sunflower. I have a fancy for calling him 
Monsieur Girasol. What a pity Mr. Green had n't longed 
for a musical instrument, and been too poor to buy one. 
It would have done him so much good to have astonished 
himself by waking up a tune in the Harmolinks." 

" Yes," responded Mrs. Delano, " it» might have saved 
him the trouble of going to Arabia Petrsea or Damascus, 
in search of something new. What do you think about 
accepting Mr. Bright's offer?" 


" O, I hope we shall go, Mamita. The children would 
be delighted with him. If Alfred had been here this morn- 
ing, he would have exclaimed, ' Is n't he jolly ? ' " 

" I think things must go cheerfully where such a sun- 
flower spirit presides," responded Mrs. Delano. "And he 
is certainly sufficiently au naturel to suit you and Flori- 

" Yes, he bubbles over," rejoined Flora. " It is n't the 
fashion ; but I like folks that bubble over." 

Mrs. Delano smiled as she answered : " So do I. And 
perhaps you can guess who it was that made me in love 
with bubbling over ? " 

Flora gave a knowing smile, and dotted one of her comic 
little courtesies. " I don't see what makes you and Flori- 
naond like me so well," said she. " I 'm sure I 'm neither 
wise nor witty." 

" But something better than either," replied Mamita. 

The vivacious little woman said truly that she was 
neither very wise nor very witty ; but she was a trans- 
parent medium of sunshine ; and the commonest glass, filled 
with sunbeams, becomes prismatic as a diamond. 



RS. GREEN'S ball was the party of the season. 
Five hundred invitations were sent out, all of them 
to people unexceptionable for wealth, or fashion, or some 
sort of high distinction, political, literary, or artistic. Smith 
had received carte blanche to prepare the most luxurious 
and elegant supper possible. Mrs. Green was resplendent 
with diamonds ; and the house was so brilliantly illumi- 
nated, that the windows of carriages traversing that part 
of Beacon Street glittered as if touched by the noonday 
sun. A crowd collected on the Common, listening to the 
band of music, and watching the windows of the princely 
mansion, to obtain glimpses through its lace curtains of 
graceful figures revolving in the dance, like a vision of 
fairy -land seen through a veil of mist. 

In that brilliant assemblage, Mrs. King was the centre 
of attraction. She was still a Rose Royal, as Gerald Fitz- 
gerald had called her twenty- three years before. A very 
close observer would have noticed that time had slightly 
touched her head ; but the general effect of the wavy hair 
was as dark and glossy as ever. She had grown somewhat 
stouter, but that only rendered her tall figure more majes- 
tic. It still seemed as if the fluid Art, whose harmonies 
were always flowing through her soul, had fashioned her 
form and was swaying all its motions ; and to this natural 
gracefulness was now added that peculiar stylishness of 
manner, which can be acquired only by familiar intercourse 
with elegant society. There was nothing foreign in her 


accent, but the modulations of her voice were so musical, 
that English, as she spoke it, seemed all vowels and liquid 
consonants. She had been heralded as La Senorita, and 
her dress was appropriately Spanish. It was of cherry- 
colored satin, profusely trimmed with black lace. A man- 
tilla of very rich transparent black lace was thrown over 
her head, and fastened on one side with a cluster of red 
fuchsias, the golden stamens of which were tipped with small 
diamonds. The lace trimming on the corsage was looped 
up with a diamond star, and her massive gold bracelets 
were clasped with diamonds. 

Mr. Green received her with great empressement ; evi- 
dently considering her the " bright particular star " of the 
evening. She accepted her distinguished position with the 
quietude of one accustomed to homage. With a slight bow 
she gave Mr. Green the desired promise to open the ball 
with him, and then turned to answer another gentleman, 
who wished to obtain her for the second dance. She would 
have observed her host a little more curiously, had she 
been aware that he once proposed to place her darling 
Floracita at the head of that stylish mansion. 

Mrs. King's peculiar style of beauty and rich foreign 
dress attracted universal attention ; but still greater admi- 
ration was excited by her dancing, which was the very soul 
of music taking form in motion ; and as the tremulous 
diamond drops of the fuchsias kept time with her graceful 
movements, they sparkled among the waving folds of her 
black lace mantilla, like fire-flies in a dark night. She was, 
of course, the prevailing topic of conversation ; and when 
Mr. Green was not dancing, he was called upon to repeat, 
again and again, the account of her wonderful debut in the 
opera at Rome. In the midst of one of these recitals, Mrs. 



Fitzgerald and her son entered ; and a group soon gathered 
round that lady, to listen to the same story from her lips. 
It was familiar to her son ; but he listened to it with 
quickened interest, while he gazed at the beautiful opera- 
singer winding about so gracefully in the evolutions of the 

Mr. King was in the same set with his lady, and had 
just touched her hand, as the partners crossed over, when 
he noticed a sudden flush on her countenance, succeeded 
by deadly pallor. Following the direction her eye had 
taken, he saw a slender, elegant young man, who, with 
some variation in the fashion of dress, seemed the veritable 
Gerald Fitzgerald to whom he had been introduced in the 
flowery parlor so many years ago. His first feeling was 
pain, that this vision of her first lover had power to excite 
such lively emotion in his wife ; but his second thought 
was, " He recalls her first-born son." 

Young Fitzgerald eagerly sought out Mr. Green, and 
said : " Please introduce me the instant this dance is ended, 
that I may ask her for the next. There will be so many 
trying to engage her, you know." 

He was introduced accordingly. The lady politely ac- 
ceded to his request, and the quick flush on her face was 
attributed by all, except Mr. King, to the heat produced 
by dancing. 

When her young partner took her hand to lead her to 
the next dance, she stole a glance toward her husband, and 
he saw that her soul was troubled. The handsome couple 
were " the observed of all observers " ; and the youth was 
so entirely absorbed with his mature partner, that not a 
little jealousy was excited in the minds of young ladies. 
When he led her to a seat, she declined the numerous invi- 


tations that crowded upon her, saying she should dance no 
more that evening. Young Fitzgerald at once professed a 
disinclination to dance, and begged that, when she was suf- 
ficiently rested, she would allow him to lead her to the 
piano, that he might hear her sing something from Nor- 
ma, by which she had so delighted his mother, in Rome. 

" Your son seems to be entirely devoted to the queen of 
the evening," said Mr. Green to his cousin. 

" How can you wonder at it ? " replied Mrs. Fitzgerald. 
" She is such a superb creature ! " 

" What was her character in Rome ? " inquired a lady 
who had joined the group. 

" Her stay there was very short," answered Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald. " Her manners were said to be unexceptionable. 
The gentlemen were quite vexed because she made herself 
so inaccessible." 

The conversation was interrupted by La Campaneo's 
voice, singing, " Ah, hello a me ritorno." The orchestra 
hushed at once, and the dancing was suspended, while the 
company gathered round the piano, curious to hear the re- 
markable singer. Mrs. Fitzgerald had long ceased to al- 
lude to what was once her favorite topic, — the wonderful 
resemblance between La Senorita's voice and a mysterious 
voice she had once heard on her husband's plantation. But 
she grew somewhat pale as she listened ; for the tones re- 
called that adventure in her bridal home at Magnolia Lawn, 
and the fair moonlight vision was followed by dismal spec- 
tres of succeeding years. Ah, if all the secret histories 
and sad memories assembled in a ball-room should be at 
once revealed, what a judgment night it would be ! 

Mrs. King had politely complied with the request to 
sing, because she was aware that her host and the company 


would be disappointed if she refused ; but it was known 
only to her own soul how much the effort cost her. She 
bowed rather languidly to the profuse compliments which 
followed her performance, and used her fan as if she felt 

" Fall back ! " said one of the gentlemen, in a low voice. 
" There is too great a crowd round her." 

The hint was immediately obeyed, and a servant was 
requested to bring iced lemonade. She soon breathed 
more freely, and tried to rally her spirits to talk with Mr. 
Green and others concerning European reminiscences. 
Mrs. Fitzgerald drew near, and signified to her cousin a 
wish to be introduced ; for it would have mortified her 
vanity, when she afterward retailed the gossip of the ball- 
room, if she had been obliged to acknowledge that she was 
not presented to la belle lionne. 

" If you are not too much fatigued," said she, " I hope 
you will allow my son to sing a duet with you. He would 
esteem it such an honor ! I assure you he has a fine voice, 
and he is thought to sing with great expression, especially 
'M'odi/ Ah,m'odi!'" 

The young gentleman modestly disclaimed the compli- 
ment to his musical powers, but eagerly urged his mother's 
request. As he bent near the cdntatrice, waiting for her 
reply, her watchful husband again noticed a quick flush 
suffusing her face, succeeded by deadly pallor. Gently 
moving young Fitzgerald aside, he said in a low tone, 
" Are you not well, my dear ? " 

She raised her eyes to his with a look of distress, and 
replied : " No, I am not well. Please order the car- 

He took her arm within his, and as they made their way 


through the crowd she bowed gracefully to the right and 
left, in answer to the lamentations occasioned by her de- 
parture. Young Fitzgerald followed to the hall door to 
offer, in the name of Mrs. Green, a beautiful bouquet, en- 
closed within an arum lily of silver filigree. She bowed 
her thanks, and, drawing from it a delicate tea-rose, pre- 
sented it to him. He wore it as a trophy the remainder 
of the evening; and none of the young ladies who teased 
him for it succeeded in obtaining it. 

When Mr. and Mrs. King were in the carriage, he took 
her hand tenderly, and said, " My dear, that young man 
recalled to mind your infant son, who died with poor 

With a heavy, sigh she answered, " Yes, I am thinking 
of that poor little baby." 

He held her hand clasped in his ; but deeming it most 
kind not to intrude into the sanctum of that sad and ten- 
der memory, he remained silent. She spoke no other 
word as they rode toward their hotel. She was seeing a 
vision of those two babes, lying side by side, on that dread- 
ful night when her tortured soul was for a while filled with 
bitter hatred for the man she had loved so truly. 

Mrs. Fitzgerald and her son were the earliest among 
the callers the next day. Mrs. King happened to rest her 
hand lightly on the back of a chair, while she exchanged 
salutations with them, and her husband noticed that the 
lace of her hanging sleeve trembled violently. 

" You took everybody by storm last evening, Mrs. King, 
just as you did when you first appeared as Norma," said 
the loquacious Mrs. Fitzgerald. " As for you, Mr. King, 
I don't know but you would have received a hundred chal- 
lenges, if gentlemen had kuown you were going to carry 


off the prize. So sly of yon, too ! For I always heard 
you were entirely indifferent to ladies." 

" Ah, well, the world don't always know what it 's talk- 
ing about," rejoined Mr. King, smiling. Further remarks 
were interrupted by the entrance of a young girl, whom 
he took by the hand, and introduced as " My daughter 

Nature is very capricious in the varieties she produces 
by mixing flowers with each other. Sometimes the dif- 
ferent tints of each are blended in a new color, compounded 
of both ; sometimes the color of one is delicately shaded 
into the other ; sometimes one color is marked in distinct 
stripes or rings upon the other ; and sometimes the sepa- 
rate hues are mottled and clouded. Nature had indulged 
in one of her freaks in the production of Eulalia, a maiden 
of fifteen summers, the only surviving child of Mr. and 
Mrs. King. She inherited her mother's tall, flexile form, 
and her long dark eyelashes, eyebrows, and hair ; but she 
had her father's large blue eyes, and his rose-and-white 
complexion. The combination was peculiar, and very 
handsome ; especially the serene eyes, which looked out 
from their dark surroundings like clear blue water deeply 
shaded by shrubbery around its edges. Her manners were 
a little shy, for her parents had wisely forborne an early in- 
troduction to society. But she entered pleasantly enough 
into some small talk with Fitzgerald about the skating par- 
ties of the winter, and a new polka that he thought she 
would like to practise. 

Callers began to arrive rapidly. There was a line 
of carriages at the door, and still it lengthened. Mrs. 
King received them all with graceful courtesy, and en- 
deavored to say something pleasing to each ; but in the 


midst of it all, she never lost sight of Gerald and Eu- 
lalia. After a short time she beckoned to her daughter 
with a slight motion of her fan, and spoke a few words to 
her aside. The young girl left the room, and did not re- 
turn to it. Fitzgerald, after interchanging some brief 
remarks with Mr. King about the classes at Cambridge, 
approached the cantatrice, and said in lowered tones : " I 
tried to call early with the hope of hearing you sing. But 
I was detained by business for grandfather ; and even if you 
were graciously inclined to gratify my presumptuous wish, 
you will not be released from company this morning. May 
I say, Au revoir ? " 

" Certainly," she replied, looking up at him with an ex- 
pression in her beautiful eyes that produced a glow of 
gratified vanity. He bowed good morning, with the smil- 
ing conviction that he was a great favorite with the dis- 
tinguished lady. 

When the last caller had retired, Mrs. King, after ex- 
changing some general observations with her husband 
concerning her impressions of Boston and its people, seated 
herself at the window, with a number of Harper's Weekly 
in her hand ; but the paper soon dropped on her lap, and 
she seemed gazing into infinity. The people passing and 
repassing were invisible to her. She was away in that 
lonely island home, with two dark-haired babies lying near 
her, side by side. 

Her husband looked at her over his newspaper, now and 
then; and observing her intense abstraction, he stepped 
softly across the room, and, laying his hand gently upon 
her head, said : " Rosa, dear, do memories trouble you so 
much that you regret having returned to America ? " 

Without change of posture, she answered : " It matters 


not where we are. We must always carry ourselves with 
us." Then, as if reproaching herself for so cold a response 
to his kind inquiry, she looked up at him, and, kissing his 
hand, said : " Dear Alfred ! Good angel of my life ! I 
do not deserve such a heart as yours." 

He had never seen such a melancholy expression in 
her eyes since the day she first encouraged him to hope 
for her affection. He made no direct allusion to the sub- 
ject of her thoughts, for the painful history of her early 
love was a theme they mutually avoided ; but he sought, 
by the most assiduous tenderness, to chase away the 
gloomy phantoms that were taking possession of her soul. 
In answer to his urgent entreaty that she would express 
to him unreservedly any wish she might form, she said, 
as if thinking aloud : " Of course they buried poor Tulee 
among the negroes ; but perhaps they buried the baby 
with Mr. and Mrs. Duroy, and inscribed something about 
him on the gravestone." 

" It is hardly probable," he replied ; " but if it would give 
you satisfaction to search, we will go to New Orleans." 

" Thank you," rejoined she ; " and I should like it very 
much if you could leave orders to engage lodgings for the 
summer somewhere distant from Boston, that we might 
go and take possession as soon as we return." 

He promised compliance with her wishes ; but the thought 
flitted through his mind, " Can it be possible the young 
man fascinates her, that she wants to fly from him ? " 

" I am going to Eulalia now," said she, with one of her 
sweet smiles. " It will be pleasanter for the dear child 
when we get out of this whirl of society, which so much dis 
turbs our domestic companionship." 

As she kissed her hand to him at the door, he thought to 


himself, "Whatever this inward struggle may be, she will 
remain true to her pure and noble character." 

Mrs. Fitzgerald, meanwhile, quite unconscious that the 
flowery surface she had witnessed covered such agitated 
depths, hastened to keep her promise of describing the 
party to Mrs. Delano and her daughter. 

" I assure you," said she, " La Senorita looked quite as 
handsome in the ball-room as she did on the stage. She is 
stouter than she was then, but not so ' fat and forty ' as I 
am. Large proportions suit her stately figure. As for her 
dress, I wish you could have seen it. It was splendid, and 
wonderfully becoming to her rich complexion. It was 
completely Spanish, from the mantilla on her head to the 
black satin slippers with red bows and brilliants. She was 
all cherry-colored satin, black lace, and diamonds." 

" How I should like to have seen her ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
Blumenthal, whose fancy was at once taken by the bright 
color and strong contrast of the costume. 

But Mrs. Delano remarked : " I should think her style 
of dress rather too prononce and theatrical ; too suggestive 
of Fanny Elsler and the Bolero." 

" Doubtless it would be so for you or I," rejoined Mrs. 
Fitzgerald. " Mother used to say you had a poet lover, 
who called you the twilight cloud, violet dissolving into 
lilac. And when I was a young lady, some of my admir- 
ers compared me to the new moon, which must, of course, 
appear in azure and silver. But I assure you Mrs. King's 
conspicuous dress was extremely becoming to her style of 
face and figure. I wish I had counted how many gentle- 
men quoted, ' She walks in beauty like the night/ It be- 
came really ridiculous at last. Gerald and I called upon 
her this morning, and we found her handsome in the par- 



lor by daylight, which is a trying test to the forties, you 
know. We were introduced to their only daughter, Eula- 
lia, — a very peculiar-looking young miss, with sky-blue 
eyes and black eyelashes, like some of the Circassian 
beauties I have read off. Gerald thinks her almost as 
handsome as her mother. What a fortune that girl will 
be ! But I have promised ever so many people to tell 
them about the party ; so I must bid you good by." 

When the door closed after her, Flora remarked, " I 
never heard of anybody but my Mamita who was named 

" Eulalia was a Spanish saint," responded Mrs. Delano ; 
" and her name is so very musical that it would naturally 
please the ear of La Senorita." 

" My curiosity is considerably excited to see this stylish 
lady," said Flora. 

" We will wait a little, till the first rush of visitors has 
somewhat subsided, and then we will call," rejoined Mrs. 

They called three days after, and were informed that 
Mr. and Mrs. King had gone to New Orleans. 



TRANGE contrasts occur in human society, even 
where there is such a strong tendency toward equal- 
ity as there is in New England. A few hours before 
Queen Fashion held her splendid court in Beacon Street, 
a vessel from New Orleans called " The King Cotton " ap- 
proached Long Wharf in Boston. Before she touched the 
pier, a young man jumped on board from another vessel 
close by. He went directly up to the captain, and said, in 
a low, hurried tone : " Let nobody land. You have slaves 
on board. Mr. Bell is in a carriage on the wharf waiting 
to speak to you." 

Having delivered this message, he disappeared in the 
same direction that he came. 

This brief interview was uneasily watched by one of 
the passengers, a young man apparently nineteen or twenty 
years old. He whispered to a yellow lad, who was his 
servant, and both attempted to land by crossing the adjoin- 
ing vessel. But the captain intercepted them, saying, " All 
must remain on board till we draw up to the wharf." 

With desperate leaps, they sprang past him. He tried 
to seize them, calling aloud, "Stop thief! Stop thief!" 
Some of his sailors rushed after them. As they ran up 
State Street, lads and boys, always ready to hunt anything, 
joined in the pursuit. A young black man, who was pass- 
ing down the street as the crowd rushed up, saw the yellow 
lad race by him, panting for breath, and heard him cry, 
" Help me!" 


The crowd soon turned backward, having caught the 
fugitives. The black man hurried after, and as they were 
putting them on board the vessel he pushed his way close 
to the yellow lad, and again heard him say, " Help me ! I 
am a slave." 

The black man paused only to look at the name of the 
vessel, and then hastened with all speed to the house of 
Mr. Willard Percival. Almost out of breath with his 
hurry, he said' to that gentleman: "A vessel from New 
Orleans, named ' The King Cotton,' has come up to Long 
Wharf. They 've got two slaves aboard. They was chas- 
ing 'em up State Street, calling out, 'Stop thief!' and I 
heard a mulatto lad cry, ' Help me ! ' I run after 'em ; and 
just as they was going to put the mulatto lad aboard the 
vessel, I pushed my w r ay close up to him, and he said, 
' Help me ! I 'm a slave.' So I run fast as I could to tell 

" Wait a moment till I write a note to Francis Jackson, 
w 7 hich you must carry as quick as you can," said Mr. Per- 
cival. " I will go to Mr. Sewall for a writ of habeas cor- 

While this w T as going on, the captain had locked the 
fugitives in the hold of his vessel, and hastened to the car- 
riage, which had been waiting for him at a short distance 
from the wharf. 

" Good evening, Mr. Bell," said he, raising his hat as he 
approached the carriage door. 

" Good evening, Captain Kane," replied the gentleman 
inside. " You 've kept me waiting so long, I was nearly 
out of patience." 

" I sent you word they 'd escaped, sir," rejoined the 
captain. " They gave us a run ; but we 've got 'em fast 


enough in the hold. One of 'em seems to be a white man. 
Perhaps he 's an Abolitionist, that 's been helping the nig- 
ger off. It 's good enough for him to be sent back to the 
South. If they get hold of him there, he II never have a 
chance to meddle with gentlemen's property again." 

" They 're both slaves," replied Mr. Bell. "The tele- 
gram I received informed me that one would pass him- 
self for a white man. But, captain, you must take 'em 
directly to Castle Island. One of the officers there will 
lock 'em up, if you tell them I sent you. And you can't 
be off too quick ; for as likely as not the Abolitionists will 
get wind of it, and be raising a row before morning. 
There 's no safety for property now-a-days." 

Having given these orders, the wealthy merchant bade 
the captain good evening, and his carriage rolled away. 

The unhappy fugitives were immediately taken from the 
hold of the vessel, pinioned fast, and hustled on board a 
boat, which urged its swift way through the w r aters to 
Castle Island, where they were safely locked up till further 

" George, they '11 send us back," said the younger 
one. " I wish we war dead." 

George answered, with a deep groan : " how I have 
watched the North Star ! thinking always it pointed to a 
land • of freedom. my God, is there no place of refuge 
for the slave ? " 

" You are so white, you could have got off, if you had n't 
brought me with you," sobbed the other. 

" And what good would freedom do me without you, 
Henny ? " responded the young man, drawing his compan- 
ion closer to his breast. " Cheer up, honey ! I '11 try 
again ; and perhaps we '11 make out better next time." 


He tried to talk hopefully ; but when yellow Henny, in 
her boy's dress, cried herself to sleep on his shoulder, his 
tears dropped slowly on her head, while he sat there gazing 
at the glittering stars, with a feeling of utter discourage- 
ment and desolation. 

That same evening, the merchant who was sending them 
back to bondage, without the slightest inquiry into their 
case, was smoking his amber-lipped meerschaum, in an 
embroidered dressing-gown, on a luxurious lounge ; his 
daughter, Mrs. Fitzgerald, in azure satin and pearls, was 
meandering through the mazes of the dance ; and his ex- 
quisitely dressed grandson, Gerald, was paying nearly 
equal homage to Mrs. King's lambent eyes and the sparkle 
of her diamonds. 

When young Fitzgerald descended to a late breakfast, 
the morning after the great party, his grandfather was 
lolling back in his arm-chair, his feet ensconced in em- 
broidered slippers, and resting on the register, while he 
read the Boston Courier. 

" Good morning, Gerald,'' said he, " if it be not past 
that time of day. If you are sufficiently rested from last 
night's dissipation, I should like to have you attend to a 
little business for me." 

" I hope it won't take very long, grandfather," replied 
Gerald ; " for I want to call on Mrs. King early, before 
her rooms are thronged with visitors." 

" That opera-singer seems to have turned your head, 
though she is old enough to be your mother," rejoined Mr. 

" I don't know that my head was any' more turned than 
others," answered the young man, in a slightly offended 
tone. " If you call to see her, sir, as mother says you intend 


to do, perhaps she will make you feel as if you had a young 
head on your shoulders." 

" Likely as not, likely as not," responded the old gentle- 
man, smiling complacently at the idea of re-enacting the 
beau. " But I wish you to do an errand for me this morn- 
ing, which I had rather not put in writing, for fear of acci- 
dents, and which I cannot trust verbally to a servant. I 
got somewhat chilled waiting in a carriage near the wharf, 
last evening, and I feel some rheumatic twinges in conse- 
quence. Under these circumstances, I trust you will 
excuse me if I ask the use of your young limbs to save 
my own." 

" Certainly, sir," replied Gerald, with thinly disguised 
impatience. " What is it you want me to do ? " 

" Two slaves belonging to Mr. Bruteman of New Or- 
leans, formerly a friend of your father, have escaped in my 
ship, ' The King Cotton.' The oldest, it seems, is a head 
carpenter, and would bring a high price. Bruteman val- 
ues them at twenty-five hundred dollars. He is my debt- 
or to a considerable amount, and those negroes are mort- 
gaged to me. But independently of that circumstance, it 
would be very poor policy, dealing with the South as I do, 
to allow negroes to be brought away in my vessels with 
impunity. Besides, there is a heavy penalty in all the 
Southern States, if the thing is proved. You see, Gerald, 
it is every way for my interest to make sure of returning 
those negroes ; and your interest is somewhat connected 
with mine, seeing that the small pittance saved from the 
wreck of your father's property is quite insufficient to sup- 
ply your rather expensive wants." 

" I think I have been reminded of that often enough, 
sir, to be in no danger of forgetting it," retorted the youth, 
reddening as he spoke. 


" Then you will perhaps think it no great hardship to 
transact a little business for me now and then," coolly re- 
joined the grandfather. " I shall send orders to have these 
negroes sold as soon as they arrive, and the money trans- 
mitted to me ; for when they once begin to run away, the 
disease is apt to become chronic." 

" Have you seen them, sir," inquired Gerald. 

" No," replied the merchant. " That would have been 
unpleasant, without being of any use. When a disagreea- 
ble duty is to be done, the' quicker it is done the better. 
Captain Kane took 'em down to Castle Island last night; 
but it won't do for them to stay there. The Abolitionists 
wall ferret 'em out, and be down there with their devilish 
habeas corpus. I want you to go on board ' The King Cot- 
ton,' take the captain aside, and tell him, from me, to remove 
them forthwith from Castle Island, keep them under strong 
guard, and skulk round with them in the best hiding-places 
he can find, until a ship passes that will take them to New 
Orleans. Of course, I need not caution you to be silent 
about this affair, especially concerning the slaves being 
mortgaged to me. If that is whispered abroad, it will soon 
get into the Abolition papers that I am a man-stealer, as 
those rascals call the slaveholders." 

The young man obeyed his instructions to the letter ; 
and having had some difficulty in finding Captain Kane, he 
was unable to dress for quite so early a call at the Revere 
House as he had intended. " How much trouble these 
niggers give us ! " thought he, as he adjusted his embroi- 
dered cravat, and took his fresh kid gloves from the box. 

vpr 'ft- Tpr -Jf 

When Mr. Blumenthal went home to dine that day, the 
ladies of the household noticed that he was unusually se- 


rious. As lie sat after dinner, absently playing a silent 
tune on the table-cloth, his wife touched his hand with her 
napkin, and said, u What was it so long ago, Florimond ? " 

He turned and smiled upon her, as he answered : " So 
my fingers were moving to the tune of ' Long, long ago,' 
were they ? I was not conscious of it, but my thoughts 
were with the long ago. Yesterday afternoon, as I was 
passing across State Street, I heard a cry of ' Stop thief!' 
and I saw them seize a young man, who looked like an 
Italian. I gave no further thought to the matter, and pur- 
sued the business I had in hand. But today I have 
learned that he was a slave, who escaped in ' The King 
Cotton ' from New Orleans. I seem to see the poor fel- 
low's terrified look now ; and it brings vividly to mind 
something dreadful that came very near happening, long- 
ago, to a person whose complexion is similar to his. I was 
thinking how willingly I would then have given the ser- 
vices of my whole life for a portion of the money which our 
best friend here has enabled me to acquire." 

" What was the dreadful thing that was going to happen, 
papa ? " inquired Rosa. 

" That is a secret between mamma and I," he replied, 
" It is something not exactly suitable to talk with little 
girls about, Rosy Posy." He took her hand, as it lay on 
the table, and pressed it affectionately, by way of apology 
for refusing his confidence. 

Then, looking at Mrs. Delano, he said : " If I had only 
known the poor fellow was a slave, I might, perhaps, 
have done something to rescue him. But the Abolitionists 
are doing what can be done. They procured a writ of 
habeas corpus, and went on board c The King Cotton ' ; but 
they could neither find the slaves nor obtain any informa- 



tion from the captain. They are keeping watch on all 
vessels bound South, in which Mr. Goldwin and I are as- 
sisting them. There are at least twenty spies out on the 

" I heartily wish you as much success as I have had in 
that kind of business," replied Mrs. Delano with a smile. 

" O, I do hope they '11 be rescued," exclaimed Flora. 
" How shameful it is to have such laws, while we keep 
singing, in the face of the world, about ' the land of the 
free, and the home of the brave.' I don't mean to sing 
that again ; for it 's false." 

"There '11 come an end to this some time or other, as 
surely as God reigns in the heavens," rejoined Blumen- 


=& # # =* # 

Two days passed, and the unremitting efforts of Mr. 
Percival and Mr. Jackson proved unavailing to obtain any 
clew to the fugitives. After an anxious consultation with 
Samuel E. Sewall, the wisest and kindest legal adviser in 
such cases, they reluctantly came to the conclusion that 
nothing more could be done without further information. 
As a last resort, Mr. Percival suggested a personal appeal 
to Mr. Bell. 

" Rather a forlorn hope that," replied Francis Jackson. 
" He has named his ship for the king that rules over us all, 
trampling on freedom of petition, freedom of debate, and 
even on freedom of locomotion." 

" We will try," said Mr. Percival. " It is barely possi- 
ble we may obtain some light on the subject." 

Early in the evening they accordingly waited upon the 
merchant at his residence. When the servant informed 
him that two gentlemen wished to see him on business, 


he laid aside his meerschaum and the Courier, and said, 
" Show them in." 

Captain Kane had informed him that the Abolitionists 
were " trying to get up a row " ; but he had not anticipated 
that they would call upon him, and it was an unpleasant 
surprise when he saw who his visitors were. He bowed 
stiffly, and waited in silence for them to explain their busi- 

"We have called," said Mr. Percival, " to make some 
inquiries concerning two fugitives from slavery, who, it is 
said, were found on board your ship, ' The King Cotton.'" 

" I know nothing about it," replied Mr. Belh "My 
captains understand the laws of the ports they sail from ; 
and it is their business to see that those laws are re- 

" But," urged Mr. Percival, " that a man is claimed as a 
slave by no means proves that he is a slave. The law 
presumes that every man has a right to personal liberty, 
until it is proved otherwise ; and in order to secure a fair 
trial of the question, the writ of habeas corpus has been 

"It 's a great disgrace to Massachusetts, sir, that she 
puts so many obstacles in the way of enforcing the laws of 
the United States," replied Mr. Bell. 

" If your grandson should be claimed as a slave, I rather 
think you would consider the writ of habeas corpus a wise 
and just provision," said the plain-speaking Francis Jack- 
son. "It is said that this young stranger, whom they 
chased as a thief, and carried off as a slave, had a com- 
plexion no darker than his." 

" I take it for granted," added Mr. Percival, " that you 
do not wish for a state of things that would make every 


man and woman in Massachusetts liable to be carried off as 
slaves, without a chance to prove their right to freedom." 

Mr. Bell answered, in tones of suppressed anger, his 
face all ablaze with excitement, "If I could choose who 
should be thus carried off, I would do the Commonwealth a 
service by ridding her of a swarm of malignant fanatics." \ 

" If you were to try that game," quietly rejoined Fran- 
cis Jackson, " I apprehend you would find some of the fire 
of '76 still alive under the ashes." 

" A man is strongly tempted to argue," said Mr. Perci- 
valj " when he knows that all the laws of truth and justice 
and freedom are on his side ; but we did not come here to 
discuss the subject of slavery, Mr. Bell. We came to ap- 
peal to your own good sense, whether it is right or safe 
that men should be forcibly carried from the city of Bos- 
ton without any process of law." 

"I stand by the Constitution," answered Mr. Bell, dog- 
gedly. " I don't presume to be wiser than the framers of 
that venerable document." 

" That is evading the question," responded Mr. Percival. 
" There is no question before us concerning the framers of 
the Constitution. The simple proposition is, whether it is 
right or safe for men to be forcibly carried from Boston 
without process of law. Two strangers have been thus ab- 
ducted ; and you say it is your captain's business. You 
know perfectly well that a single line from you would in- 
duce your captain to give those men a chance for a fair 
trial. Is it not your duty so to instruct him?" 

A little thrown off his guard, Mr. Bell exclaimed : " And 
give an Abolition mob a chance to rescue them ? I shall 
do no such thing." 

" It is not the Abolitionists who get up mobs," rejoined 


Francis Jackson. " Garrison was dragged through the 
streets for writing against slavery; but when Yancey of 
Alabama had the use of Faneuil Hall, for the purpose of 
defending slavery, no Abolitionist attempted to disturb his 

A slight smile hovered about Mr. Percival's lips ; for it 
was well known that State Street and Ann Street clasped 
hands when mobs were wanted, and that money changed 
palms on such occasions ; and the common rumor was that 
Mr. Bell's purse had been freely used. 

The merchant probably considered it an offensive insinu- 
ation, for his face, usually rubicund from the effects of 
champagne and oysters, became redder, and his lips were 
tightly compressed ; but he merely reiterated, " I stand by 
the Constitution, sir." 

" Mr. Bell, I must again urge it upon your conscience," 
said Mr. Percival, " that you are more responsible than the 
captain in this matter. Your captains, of course, act under 
your orders, and would do nothing contrary to your ex- 
pressed wishes. Captain Kane has, doubtless, consulted 
you in this business." 

" That 's none of your concern, sir," retorted the irascible 
merchant. " My captains know that I think Southern gen- 
tlemen ought to be protected in their property ; and that is 
sufficient. I stand by the Constitution, sir. I honor the 
reverend gentleman who said he w T as ready to send his 
mother or his brother into slavery, if the laws required it. 
That 's the proper spirit, sir. You fanatics, with your use- 
less abstractions about human rights, are injuring trade, and 
endangering the peace of the country. You are doing all 
you can to incite the slaves to insurrection. I don't pre- 
tend to be wiser than the framers of the Constitution, sir. 


I don't pretend to be wiser than Daniel "Webster, sir, who 
said in Congress that he * would support, to the fullest ex- 
tent, an) r law Southern gentlemen chose to frame for the 
recovery of fugitive slaves/ " 

" I wish you a better conscience-keeper," rejoined Francis 
Jackson, rising as he spoke. " I don't see, my friend, that 
there 's any use in staying here to talk any longer. There 's 
none so deaf as those that won't hear." 

Mr. Percival rose at this suggestion, and " Good even- 
ing" was exchanged, with formal bows on both sides. 
But sturdy Francis Jackson made no bow, and uttered no 
" Good evening." When they were in the street, and the 
subject was alluded to by his companion, he simply re- 
plied : " I 've pretty much done with saying or doing what 
I don't mean. It 's a pity that dark-complexioned grand- 
son of his could n't be carried off as a slave. That might, 
perhaps, bring him to a realizing sense of the state of 



A FEW days past the middle of the following May, a 
carriage stopped before the house of Mr. Joseph 
Bright, in Northampton, and Mrs. Delano, with all the 
Blumenthal family, descended from it. Mr. Bright re- 
ceived them at the gate, his face smiling all over. " You 're 
welcome, ladies," said he. " Walk in ! walk in ! Betsey, 
this is Mrs. Delano. This is Mrs. Bright, ladies. Things 
ain't so stylish here as at your house ; but I hope you '11 
find 'em comfortable." 

Mrs. Bright, a sensible-looking woman, with great mod- 
eration of manner, showed them into a plainly furnished, 
but very neat parlor. 

" 0, how pleasant this is ! " exclaimed Mrs, Blumenthal, 
as she looked out of one of the side-windows. 

The children ran up to her repeating : " How pleasant ! 
What a nice hedge, mamma ! And see that wall all 
covered with pretty flowers ! " 

" Those are moss-pinks," said Mrs. Bright. " I think 
they are very ornamental to a wall." 

" Did you plant them ? " inquired Rosa. 

" 0, no," said Mr. Bright, who was bringing in various 
baskets and shawls. " That 's not our garden ; but we have 
just as much pleasure looking at it as if it was. A great 
Southern nabob lives there. He made a heap o' money 
selling women and children, and he 's come North to spend 
it. He 's a very pious man, and deacon of the church." 
The children began to laugh ; for Mr. Bright drawled out 


his words in solemn tones, and made his broad face look 
very comical by trying to lengthen it. " His name is Still- 
ham," added he, " but I call him Deacon Steal'eni." 

As lie passed out, Posa whispered to her mother, " What 
does he mean about a deacon's selling women and children?" 

Before an answer could be given, Mr. Bright reappeared 
with a bird-cage. " I guess this is a pretty old parrot," 
said he. 

; ' Yes, she is quite old," replied Mrs. Delano. " But we 
are all attached to her ; and our house being shut up for the 
summer, we were unwilling to trust her with strangers." 

The parrot, conscious of being talked about, turned up 
her head sideways, and winked her eye, without stirring 
from the corner of the cage, where she was rolled up like 
a ball of feathers. Then she croaked out an English 
phrase, which she had learned of the children, " Polly 
wants a cacker." 

" She shall have a cracker," said good-natured Mr. 
Bright ; and Rosa and little Lila were soon furnished with 
a cracker and a lump of sugar for Poll. 

In a short time they were summoned to tea ; and after 
enjoying Mrs. B right's light bread and sweet butter, they 
saw no more of their host and hostess for the evening. In 
the morning the whole family were up before the hour ap- 
pointed for breakfast, and were out in the garden, taking a 
look at the environments of their new abode. As Mrs. 
Blumenthal was walking among the bushes, Mr. Bright's 
beaming face suddenly uprose before her, from where he 
was stooping to pluck up some weeds. 

" Good morning, ma'am," said he. " Do hear that old 
thief trying to come Paddy over the Lord ! " 

As he spoke, he pointed his thumb backward toward 


Deacon Stillham's house, whence proceeded a very loud 
and monotonous voice of prayer. 

Mrs. Blumenthal smiled as she inquired, " What did 
you mean by saying he sold women and children ? " 

" Made his money by slave-trading down in Carolina, 
ma'am. I reckon a man has to pray a deal to get himself 
out of that scrape ; needs to pray pretty loud too, or the 
voice of women screaming for their babies would get to 
the throne afore him. He don't like us over and above 
well, 'cause we 're Abolitionists. But there 's Betsey call- 
ing me ; I must n't stop here talking." 

Mrs. Blumenthal amused her companions by a repetition 
of his remarks concerning the Deacon. She was much en- 
tertained by their host's original style of bubbling over, as 
she termed it. After breakfast she said : " There he is in 
the garden. Let 's go and talk with him, Florimond." 

And taking her parasol, she went out, leaning on her 
husband's arm. 

"So you are an Abolitionist?" said Mr. Blumenthal, as 
they stopped near their host. 

Mr. Bright tossed his hat on a bush, and, leaning on his 

hoe, sang in a stentorian voice : " I am an Abolitionist ; I 

glory in the name. — There," said he, laughing, " I let out 

all my voice, that the Deacon might hear. He can pray 

the loudest ; but I reckon I can sing the loudest. I '11 tell 

you what first made me begin to think about slavery. You 

see I was never easy without I could be doing something 

in the musical way, so I undertook to teach singing. One 

winter, I thought I should like to run away from Jack 

Frost, and I looked in the Southern papers to see if any 

of 'em advertised for a singing-master. The first thing 

my eye lighted on was this advertisement : — 

14* u 


" ' Run away from the subscriber a stout mulatto slave, named 
Joe ; lias light sandy hair, blue eyes, and ruddy complexion ; is intel- 
ligent, and will pass himself for a white man. I will give one hun- 
dred dollars' reward to whoever will seize him and put him in jail/ 

" ' By George ! ' said I, ' that 's a description of me. I 
did n't know before that I was a mulatto. It '11 never do 
for me to go there. 9 So I went to Vermont to teach. I 
told 'em I was a runaway slave, and showed 'em the adver- 
tisement that described me. Some of 'em believed me, till 
I told 'em it was a joke. Well, it is just as bad for those 
poor black fellows as it would have been for me ; but that 
blue-eyed Joe seemed to bring the matter home to me. It 
set me to thinking about slavery, and I have kept thinking 
ever since." 

" Not exactly such a silent thinking as the apothecary's 
famous owl, I judge," said Mrs. Blumenthal. 

" No," replied he, laughing. " I never had the Quaker 
gift of gathering into the stillness, that 's a fact. But I 
reckon even that 'pothecary's owl wouldn't be silent if he 
could hear and understand all that Betsey has told me about 
the goings-on down South. Before I married her, she 
went there to teach ; but she 's a woman o' feeling, and she 
could n't stand it long. But, dear me, if I believed Deacon 
Steal'em's talk, I should think it was just about the pleas- 
antest thing in the world to be sold ; and that the niggers 
down South had nothing 'pon earth to do but to lick treacle 
and swing on a gate. Then he proves it to be a Divine 
institution from Scripture, chapter and verse. You may 
have noticed, perhaps, that such chaps are always mighty 
well posted up about the original designs of Providence ; 
especially as to who 's foreordained to be kept down. He 
says God cussed Ham, and the niggers are the descendants 


of Ham. I told him if there was an estate of Ham's 
left unsettled, I reckoned 't would puzzle the 'cutest lawyer 
to hunt up the rightful heirs." 

"I think so," rejoined Mr. Blumenthal, smiling; "espe- 
cially when they 've become so mixed up that they adver- 
tise runaway negroes with sandy hair, blue eyes, and ruddy 

" When the Deacon feels the ground a little shaky under 
him," resumed Mr. Bright, he leans on his minister down 
in Carolina, who, he says, is a Northern man, and so pious 
that folks come from far and near to get him to pray for 
rain in a dry time ; thinking the prayers of such a godly 
man will be sure to bring down the showers. He says that 
man preached a sermon that proved niggers were born to 
be servants of servants unto their brethren. I told him I 
didn't doubt that part of the prophecy was fulfilled about 
their serving their brethren ; and I showed him the adver- 
tisement about sandy hair and blue eyes. But as for being 
servants of servants, I never heard of slaveholders serving 
anybody except — a chap whose name it ain't polite to 
mention before ladies. As for that preacher, he put me 
in mind of a minister my father used to tell of. He 'd been 
to a wedding, and when he come home he could n't light 
his lamp. After trying a long spell he found out that the 
extinguisher was on it. I told the deacon that ministers 
down South had put an extinguisher on their lamp, and 
could n't be expected to raise much of a light from it to 
guide anybody's steps." 

" Some of the Northern ministers are not much better 
guides, I think," rejoined Mr. Blumenthal. 

" Just so," replied his host ; " 'cause they 've got the 
same extinguisher on ; and ain't it curious to see 'em puff- 



ing and blowing at the old lamp ? I get 'most tired of 
talking common sense and common feeling to the Deacon. 
You can't get it into him, and it won't stay on him. You 
might as well try to heap a peck o' flax-seed. He keeps 
eating his own words, too ; though they don't seem to agree 
with him, neither. He maintains that the slaves are per- 
fectly contented and happy ; and the next minute, if you 
quote any of their cruel laws, he tells you they are obliged 
to make such laws or else they would rise and cut their 
masters' throats. He says blacks and whites won't mix 
any more than oil and water ; and the next minute he 
says if the slaves are freed they '11 marry our daughters. 
I tell him his arguments are like the Kilkenny cats, that 
ate one another up to the tip o' their tails. The Dea- 
con is sensible enough, too, about many other subjects ; 
but he nor no other man can saw straight with a crooked 

" It 's an old saying," rejoined Blumenthal, " that, when 
men enter into a league with Satan, he always deserts 
them at the tightest pinch ; and I've often observed he's 
sure to do it where arguments pinch." 

. " I don't wonder you are far from being a favorite with 
the Deacon," remarked Flora ; " for, according to your own 
account, you hit him rather hard." 

" I suppose I do," rejoined Mr. Bright. " I 'm always in 
earnest myself; and when I'm sure I'm in the right, I 
always drive ahead. I soon get out o' patience trying to 
twist a string that ain't fastened at nary eend, as an old 
neighbor of my father used to say. I suppose some of us 
Abolitionists ore a little rough at times; but I* reckon the 
coarsest of us do more good than the false prophets that 
prophesy smooth things*" 


" You said Mrs. Bright had been a teacher in the South. 
What part of the South was it ? " inquired Mrs. Blumenthal. 

" She went to Savannah to be nursery governess to 
Mrs. Fitzgerald's little girl," replied he. " But part of the 
time she was on an island where Mr. Fitzgerald had a cot- 
ton plantation. I dare say you 've heard of him, for he 
married the daughter of that rich Mr. Bell who lives in 
your street. He died some years ago ; at least they sup- 
pose he died, but nobody knows what became of him." 

Flora pressed her husband's arm, and was about to in- 
quire concerning the mystery, when Mrs. Delano came, 
hand in hand with Rosa and Lila, to say that she had 
ordered the carriage and wanted them to be in readiness to 
take a drive. 

They returned to a late dinner ; and when they rose from 
a long chat over the dessert, Mr. Bright was not to be 
found, and his wife was busy ; so further inquiries con- 
cerning Mr. Fitzgerald's fate were postponed. Mr. Blu- 
menthal proposed a walk on Round Hill ; but the children 
preferred staying at home. Rosa had a new tune she 
wanted to practise with her guitar ; and her little sister 
had the promise of a story from Mamita Lila. So Mr. 
Blumenthal and his wife went forth on their ramble alone. 
The scene from Round Hill was beautiful with the tender 
foliage of early spring. Slowly they sauntered round from 
point to point, pausing now and then to look at the hand- 
some villages before them, at the blooming peach-trees, the 
glistening river, and the venerable mountains, with feathery 
crowns of violet cloud. 

Suddenly a sound of music floated on the air ; and they 
stood spell-bound, with heads bowed, as if their souls were 
hushed in prayer. When it ceased, Mr. Blumenthal drew 


a long breath, and said, " Ah ! that was our Mendels- 

" How exquisitely it was played," observed his wife, 
" and how in harmony it was with these groves ! It sounded 
like a hymn in the forest." 

They lingered, hoping again to hear the invisible musi- 
cian. As they leaned against the trees, the silver orb of 
the moon ascended from the horizon, and rested on the 
brow of Mount Holyoke ; and from the same quarter 
whence Mendelssohn's " Song without Words " had pro- 
ceeded, the tones of "Casta Diva" rose upon the air. 
Flora seized her husband's arm with a quick, convulsive 
grasp, and trembled all over. Wondering at the intensity 
of her emotion, he passed his arm tenderly round her waist 
and drew her closely to him. Thus, leaning upon his 
heart, she listened with her whole being, from the inmost 
recesses of her soul, throughout all her nerves, to her very 
fingers' ends. When the sounds died away, she sobbed 
out : " O, how like Rosa's voice ! It seemed as if she had 
risen from the dead." 

He spoke soothingly, and in a few minutes they de- 
scended the hill and silently wended their way homeward. 
The voice that had seemed to come from another world 
invested the evening landscape with mystical solemnity. 
The expression of the moon seemed transfigured, like a 
great clairvoyant eye, reflecting light from invisible spheres, 
and looking out upon the external world with dreamy ab- 

When they arrived at their lodgings,* Flora exclaimed : 
" Mamita Lila, we have heard such heavenly music, 
and a voice so wonderfully like Rosa's ! I don't believe I 
shall sleep a wink to-night." 


" Do you mean the Aunt Rosa I was named for ? ' in- 
quired her daughter. 

" Yes, Rosen Blumen," replied her mother ; " and I 
wish you had gone with us, "that you might have an idea 
what a wonderful voice she had." 

This led to talk about old times, and to the singing of 
various airs associated with those times. When they re- 
tired to rest, Flora fell asleep with those tunes marching 
and dancing through her brain ; and, for the first time dur- 
ing many years, she dreamed of playing them to her 
father, while Rosabella sang. 

The next morning, when the children had gone out to 
ramble in the woods with their father, her memory being 
full of those old times, she began to say over to the parrot 
some of the phrases that formerly amused her father and 
Rosabella. The old bird was never talkative now ; but 
when urged by Flora, she croaked out some of her fa- 
miliar phrases. 

" I 'm glad we brought pauvre Manon with us," said 
Mrs. Blumen thai. " I think she seems livelier since she 
came here. Sometimes I fancy she looks like good 
Madame Guirlande. Those feathers on her head make 
me think of the bows on Madame's cap. Come, jolie 
Manon, I '11 carry you out doors, where the sun will shine 
upon you. You like sunshine, don't you, Manon ? " 

She took the cage, and was busy fastening it on the 
bough of a tree, when a voice from the street said, " Bon 
jour, jolie Manon! " 

The parrot suddenly napped her wings, gave a loud 
laugh, and burst into a perfect tornado of French and 
Spanish phrases : " Bon jour ! Buenos dias ! Querida mia ! 
Joli diable ! Petit blanc ! Ha ! ha I " 


Surprised at this explosion, Mrs. Blumenthal looked 
round to discover the cause, and exclaiming, " Ohciel/" 
she turned deadly pale, and rushed into the house. 

" What is the matter, my child ? inquired Mrs. Delano, 

" O Mamita, I 've seen Rosa's ghost," she replied, sink- 
ing into a chair. 

Mrs. Delano poured some cologne on a handkerchief, and 
bathed her forehead, while she said, " You were excited 
last night by the tune you used to hear your sister sing ; 
and it makes you nervous, dear." 

While she was speaking, Mrs. Bright entered the room, 
saying, u Have you a bottle of sal volatile you can lend 
me ? A lady has come in, who says she is a little faint." 

" I will bring it from my chamber," replied Mrs. Delano. 
She left the room, and was gone some time. When she 
returned, she found Mrs. Blumenthal leaning her head on 
the table, with her face buried in her hands. " My child, 
I want you to come into the other room," said Mrs. Delano. 
" The lady who was faint is the famous Mrs. King, from 
Boston. She is boarding on Round Hill, and I suppose it 
w r as her voice you heard singing. She said she had seen a 
lady come into this house who looked so much like a de- 
ceased relative that it made her feel faint. Now don't be 
excited, darling ; but this lady certainly resembles the 
sketch you made of your sister; and it is barely possi- 

Before she could finish the sentence, Flora started up, 
and flew into the adjoining room. A short, quick cry, " 
Floracita ! " " Rosabella ! " and they were locked in 
each other's arms. 

After hugging and kissing, and weeping and laughing by 


turns, Mrs. King said: "That must have been Maclame's 
parrot. The sight of her made me think of old times, and 
I said, ' Bon jour, jolie Manon!* Your back was toward 
me, and I should have passed on, if my attention had not 
been arrested by her wild outpouring of French and Span- 
ish. I suppose she knew my voice." 

" Bless the dear old bird ! " exclaimed Flora. " It was 
she who brought us together again at last. She shall come 
in to see you." 

They went out to bring in their old pet. But jolie 
Manon was lying on the floor of her cage, with eyes closed 
and wings outstretched. The joyful surprise had been 
too much for her feeble old nerves. She was dead. 



you are alive ! " exclaimed Rosa, holding her sister 
back a little, and gazing upon her face with all her 
soul in her eyes. 

" Yes, very much alive," answered Flora, with a smile 
4hat brought out all her dimples. 

" But do tell me," said Rosa, " how you came to go away 
so strangely, and leave me to mourn for you as if you 
were dead." 

The dimples disappeared, and a shadow clouded Flora's 
expressive eyes, as she replied : " It would take a long 
while to explain all that, sistita mia. We will talk it over 
another time, please." 

Rosa sighed as she pressed her sister's hand, and said : 
" Perhaps I have already conjectured rightly about it, 
Floracita. My eyes were opened by bitter experiences 
after we were parted. Some time I will explain to you 
how I came to run to Europe in such a hurry, with 
Madame and the Sign or." 

" But tell me, the first thing of all, whether Tulee is 
dead," rejoined Flora. 

" You know Madame was always exceedingly careful 
about expense," responded Rosa. " Mrs. Duroy was will- 
ing to board Tulee for her work, and Madame thought it 
was most prudent to leave her there till we got established 
in Europe, and could send for her ; and just when we were 
expecting her to rejoin us, letters came informing us that 
Mr. and Mrs. Duroy and Tulee all died of yellow-fever. 


It distresses me beyond measure to think of our having 
left poor, faithful Tulee." 

" When we found out that Mr. Fitzgerald had married 
another wife," replied Flora, " my new Mamita kindly vol- 
unteered to go with me in search of you and Tulee. We 
went to the cottage, and to the plantation, and to New Or- 
leans. Everybody I ever knew seemed to be dead or 
gone away. But Madame's parrot was alive, and her 
chattering led me into a stranger's house, where I heard 
that you were lost at sea on your way to Europe ; and that 
Tulee, with a white baby she had charge of, had died of 
yellow-fever. Was that baby yours, dear ? " 

Rosa lowered her eyes, and colored deeply, as she an- 
swered : " That subject is very painful to me. I can never 
forgive myself for having left Tulee and that poor little 

Flora pressed her sister's hand in silence for a moment, 
and then said : " You told me Madame and the Signor 
were alive and well. Where are they ? " 

" They lived with us in Provence," replied Rosa. " But 
when we concluded to return to America, the Signor ex- 
pressed a wish to end his days in his native country. So 
Mr. King purchased an estate for them near Florence, 
and settled an annuity upon them. I had a letter from 
Madame a few days ago, and she writes that they are as 
happy as rabbits in clover. The Signor is getting quite 
old ; and if she survives him, it is agreed that she will come 
and end her days with us. How it will delight her heart 
to hear that you are alive ! What a strange fortune we 
have had ! It seems that Mr. King always loved me, from 
the first evening that he spent at our house. Do you re- 
member how you laughed because he offered to help us if 


ever we were in trouble ? lie knew more about us then 
than we knew about ourselves ; and lie afterward did help 
me out of very great troubles. I will tell you all about it 
some time. But first I want to know about you. Who is 
this new Mamita that you speak of?" 

" O, it was wonderful how she came to me when I had 
the greatest need of a friend," answered Flora. " You 
must know that she and Papasito were in love with each 
other when they were young ; and she is in love with his 
memory now. I sometimes think his spirit led her to me. 
I will show you a picture I have made of Papasito and 
Mamita as guardian angels, placing a crown of violets and 
lilies of the valley on the head of my new Mamita. When 
I had to run away, she brought me to live with her in 
Boston ; and there I met with an old acquaintance. Do 
you remember Florimond Blumenthal ? " 

" The good German boy that Papasito took such an in- 
terest in ? " inquired Rosa. " To be sure I remember 

" Well, he 's* a good German boy now/' rejoined Flora ; 
"and I'm Mrs. Blumenthal." 

" Is it possible ? " exclaimed Rosa. " You look so ex- 
actly as you did when you were such a merry little elf, 
that I never thought to inquire whether you were married. 
In the joy of this sudden meeting, I forgot how many 
years had passed since we saw each other." 

" You will realize how long it has been when you see my 
children," rejoined Flora. " My oldest, Alfred Royal, is 
fitting for college. He is the image of cher Papa ; and you 
will see how Mamita Lila doats upon him. She must have 
loved Papasito very much. Then I had a daughter that 
died in a few days ; then I had my Rosen Blumen, and 


you will see who she looks like ; then some more came 
and went to the angels. Last of all came little Lila, who 
looks just like her father, — flaxen hair, pink cheeks, and 
great German forget-me-nots for eyes." 

" How I shall love them all ! " exclaimed Rosa. " And 
you will love our Eulalia. I had a little Alfred and a lit- 
tle Flora. They came to us in Provence, and we left their 
pretty little bodies there among the roses." 

The sisters sat folded in each other's arms, their souls 
wandering about among memories, when Mr. Blumenthal 
returned from his lon^ ramble with the children. Then, 
of course, there was a scene of exclamations and embraces. 
Little Lila was shy, and soon ran away to take refuge in 
Mamita's chamber; but Rosen Blumen was full of wonder 
and delight that such a grand, beautiful lady was the Aunt 
Rosa of whom she had heard so much. 

" Mamita Lila has stayed away all this time, out of re- 
gard to our privacy," said Flora ; " but now I am going to 
bring her." 

She soon returned, arm in arm with Mrs. Delano. Mr. 
Blumenthal took her hand respectfully, as she entered, and 
said : " This is our dear benefactress, our best earthly 

" My guardian angel, my darling Mamita," added Flora. 

Mrs. King eagerly stepped forward, and folded her in 
her arms, saying, in a voice half stifled with emotion, 
" Thank God and you for all this happiness." 

While they were speaking together, Flora held a whis- 
pered consultation with her husband, who soon went forth 
in search of Mr. King, with strict injunctions to say merely 
that an unexpected pleasure awaited him. He hastened to 
obey the summons, wondering what it could mean. There 


was no need of introducing him to his new-found relative. 
The moment be entered the room, he exclaimed, " Why, 

" So you knew me ? " she said, clasping his hand warmly. 

" To be sure I did," he answered. " You are the same 
little fairy that danced in the floral parlor." 

" 0, I 'm a sober matron now," said she, with a comic 
attempt to look demure about the mouth, while her eyes 
were laughing. " Here is my daughter Rosa ; and I have 
a tall lad, who bears two thirds of your regal name." 

T.he happy group were loath to separate, though it was 
only to meet again in the evening at Mr. King's lodgings 
on Round Hill. There, memories and feelings, that tried 
in vain to express themselves fully in words, found eloquent 
utterance in music. 

Day after day, and evening after evening, the sisters 
met, with a hunger of the heart that could not be satisfied. 
Their husbands and children, meanwhile, became mutually 
attached. Rosen Blumen, richly colored with her tropical 
ancestry and her vigorous health, looked upon her more 
ethereal cousin Eulalia as a sort of angel, and seemed to 
worship her as such. Sometimes she accompanied her 
sweet, bird-like voice with the guitar ; sometimes they 
sang duets together ; and sometimes one played on the 
piano, while the other danced with Lila, whose tiny feet 
kept time to the music, true as an echo. Not unfrequent- 
ly, the pretty little creature was called upon to dance a 
pas seid ; for she had improvised a dance for herself to 
the tune of Yankee Doodle, and it Was very amusing to 
see how emphatically she stamped the rhythm. 

While the young people amused themselves thus, Flora 
often brought forward her collection of drawings, which 
Rosa called the portfolio of memories. 


There was the little fountain in their father's garden, the 
lonely cottage on the island, the skeleton of the dead pine- 
tree, with the moon peeping through its streamers of moss, 
and Thistle with his panniers full of flowers. Among the 
variety of foreign scenes, Mrs. King particularly admired 
the dancing peasants from Frascati. 

" Ah," said Flora, "I see them now, just as they looked 
when w r e passed them on our beautiful drive to Albano. 
It was the first really merry day I had had for a long time. 
I was just beginning to learn to enjoy myself without you. 
It was very selfish of me, dear Rosa, but I was forgetful 
of you, that day. And, only to think of it ! if it had not 
been for that unlucky apparition of Mr. Fitzgerald, I should 
have gone to the opera and seen you as Norma." 

" Very likely we should both have fainted," rejoined 
Rosa, " and then the manager would have refused to let 
La Campaneo try her luck again. But what is this, Flo- 
racita ? " 

" That is a group on Monte Pincio," she replied. " I 
sketched it when I was shut up in my room, the day be- 
fore you came out in the opera." 

" I do believe it is Madame and the Signor and I," re- 
sponded Rosa. " The figures and the dresses are exactly 
the same ; and I remember we went to Monte Pincio that 
morning, on my return from rehearsal." 

"What a stupid donkey I was, not to know you were so 
near ! ' said Flora. " I should have thought my fingers 
would have told me while I was drawing it." 

" Ah," exclaimed Rosa, " here is Tulee ! " Her eyes 
moistened while she gazed upon it. " Poor Tulee ! " said 
she, "how she cared for me, and comforted me, during 
those dark and dreadful days ! If it had n't been for her 


and Chloe, I could never have lived through that trouble. 
When I began to recover, she told me how Chloe held my 
hand hour after hour, and prayed over me without ceasing. 
I believe she prayed me up out of the grave. She said 
our Mamita appeared to her once, and told her she was 
my guardian angel ; but if it had really been our Mamita, 
I think she would have told her to tell me you were alive, 
Mignonne. When Alfred and I went South, just before 
we came here, we tried to find Tom and Chloe. We in- 
tend to go to New Bedford soon to see them. A glimpse 
of their good-natured black faces would give me more 
pleasure than all the richly dressed ladies I saw at Mrs. 


Green's great party." 

" Very likely you '11 hear Tom preach when you go to 
New Bedford," rejoined Flora, " for he is a Methodist 
minister now ; and Chloe, they say, is powerful in prayer 
at the meetings. I often smile when I think about the 
manner of her coming away. It was so funny that my 
quiet, refined Mamita Lila should all at once become a 
kidnapper. But here is Rosen Blumen. Well, what now, 
Mignonne ? " 

" Papa says Lila is very sleepy, and we ought to be 
going home," replied the young damsel. 

" Then we will kiss good night, sistita mia" said Mrs. 
Blumenthal ; " and you will bring Eulalia to us to-morrow." 

On their return home, Mr. Bright called to them over 
the garden fence. " I 've just had a letter from your 
neighbor, Mrs. Fitzgerald," said he. " She wants to know 
whether we can accommodate her, and her father, and her 
son with lodgings this summer. I 'm mighty glad we can 
say we 've let all our rooms ; for that old Mr. Bell treats 
mechanics as if he thought they all had the small-pox, and 


he was afraid o' catching it. So different from you, Mr. 
Blumenthal, and Mr. King ! You ain't afraid to take hold 
of a rough hand without a glove on. How is Mrs. King ? 
Hope she ? s coming to-morrow. If the thrushes and bobo- 
links could sing human music, and put human feeling into 
it, her voice would beat 'em all. How romantic that you 
should come here to Joe Bright's to find your sister, that 
you thought was dead." 

When they had courteously answered his inquiries, he 
repeated a wish he had often expressed, that somebody 
would write a story about it. If he had been aware of all 
their antecedents, he would perhaps have written one him- 
self; but he only knew that the handsome sisters were 
orphans, separated in youth, and led by a singular combi- 
nation of circumstances to suppose each other dead. 




WHEN the sisters were alone together, the next day- 
after dinner, Flora said, " Rosa, dear, does it pain 
you very much to hear about Mr. Fitzgerald ? " 

" No ; that wound has healed," she replied. " It is 
merely a sad memory now." 

" Mrs. Bright was nursery governess in his family be- 
fore her marriage," rejoined Flora. " I suppose you have 
heard that he disappeared mysteriously. I think she may 
know something about it, and I have been intending to ask 
her ; but your sudden appearance, and the quantity of 
things we have had to say to each other, have driven it out 
of my head. Do you object to my asking her to come in 
and tell us something about her experiences ? " 

" I should be unwilling to have her know we were ever 
acquainted with Mr. Fitzgerald," responded Mrs. King. 

" So should I," said Flora. " It will be a sufficient 
reason for my curiosity that Mrs. Fitzgerald is our ac- 
quaintance and neighbor." 

And she went out to ask her hostess to come and sit 
with them. After some general conversation, Flora said : 
" You know Mrs. Fitzgerald is our neighbor in Boston. I 
have some curiosity to know what were your experiences 
in her family." 

" Mrs. Fitzgerald was always very polite to me," re- 
plied Mrs. Bright ; " and personally I had no occasion to 
find fault with Mr. Fitzgerald, though I think the Yankee 
schoolma'am was rather a bore to him. The South is a 


beautiful part of the country. I used to think the sea- 
island, where they spent most of the summer, was as beau- 
tiful as Paradise before the fall ; but I never felt at home 
there. I did n't like the state of things. It 's my theory 
that everybody ought to help in doing the work of the 
world. There 's a great deal to be done, ladies, and it 
don't seem right that some backs should be broken with 
labor, while others have the spine complaint for want of 
exercise. It did n't agree with my independent New Eng- 
land habits to be waited upon so much. A negro woman 
named Venus took care of my room. The first night I 
slept at the plantation, it annoyed me to see her kneel 
down to take off my stockings and shoes. I told her she 
might go, for I could undress myself. She seemed sur- 
prised ; and I think her conclusion was that I was no lady. 
But all the negroes liked me. They had got the idea, 
somehow, that Northern people were their friends, and 
were doing something to set them free." 

" Then they generally wanted their freedom, did they ? " 
inquired Flora. 

" To be sure they did," rejoined Mrs. Bright. " Did 
you ever hear of anybody that liked being a slave ? " 

Mrs. King asked whether Mr. Fitzgerald was a hard 

"I don't think he was," said their hostess. "I have 
known him to do very generous and kind things for his 
servants. But early habits had made him indolent and 
selfish, and he left the overseer to do as he liked. Besides, 
though he was a pleasant gentleman when sober, he was 
violent when he was intoxicated ; and he had become much 
addicted to intemperance before I went there. They said 
he had been a very handsome man ; but he was red and 


bloated when I knew him. lie had a dissipated circle of 
acquaintances, who used to meet at his house in Savannah, 
and gamble with cards till late into the night ; and the 
liquor they drank often made them very boisterous and 
quarrelsome. Mrs. Fitzgerald never made any remark, 
in my presence, about these doings ; but I am sure they 
troubled her, for I often heard her walking her chamber 
long after she had retired for the night. Indeed, they 
made such an uproar, that it was difficult to sleep till they 
were gone. Sometimes, after they had broken up, I heard 
them talking on the piazza ; and their oaths and obscene 
jests were shocking to hear ; yet if I met any of them the 
next day, they appeared like courtly gentlemen. When 
they were intoxicated, niggers and Abolitionists seemed 
always to haunt their imaginations. I remember one night 
in particular. I judged by their conversation that they 
had been reading in a Northern newspaper some discussion 
about allowing slaveholders to partake of the sacrament. 
Their talk was a strange tipsy jumble. If Mr. Bright had 
heard it, he would give you a comical account of it. As 
they went stumbling down the steps, some were singing 
and some were swearing. I heard one of them bawl out, 
' God damn their souls to all eternity, they 're going to 
exclude us from the communion-table.' When I first told 

the story to Mr. Bright, I said d their souls ; but he 

said that was all a sham, for everybody knew what d 

stood for, and it was just like showing an ass's face to 
avoid speaking his name. So I have spoken the word 
right out plain, just as I heard it. It was shocking talk to 
hear, and you may think it very improper to repeat it, la- 
dies ; but I have told it to give you an idea of the state of 
things in the midst of which I found mvself." 


Mrs. King listened in sad silence. The Mr. Fitzgerald 
of this description was so unlike the elegant young gentle- 
man who had won her girlish love, that she could not recog- 
nize him as the same person. 

" Did Mr. Fitzgerald die before you left ? " inquired 

"I don't know when or how he died," replied Mrs. 
Bright; "but I have my suspicions. Out of regard to 
Mrs. Fitzgerald, I have never mentioned them to any one 
but my husband ; and if I name them to you, ladies, I 
trust you will consider it strictly confidential." 

They promised, and she resumed. 

" I never pried into the secrets of the family, but I could 
not help learning something about them, partly from my own 
observation, and inferences drawn therefrom, and partly 
from the conversation of Venus, mv talkative waiting-maid. 
She told me that her master married a Spanish lady, the 
most beautiful lady that ever walked the earth ; and that he 
conveyed her away secretly somewhere after he married the 
milk-face, as she called Mrs. Fitzgerald. Venus was still 
good-looking when I knew her. From her frequent re- 
marks I judge that, when she was young, her master thought 
her .extremely pretty ; and she frequently assured me that 
he was a great judge ' ob we far sex.' She had a handsome 
mulatto daughter, whose features greatly resembled his ; 
and she said there was good reason for it. I used to im- 
agine Mrs. Fitzgerald thought so too ; for she always 
seemed to owe this handsome Nelly a grudge. Mr. Fitz- 
gerald had a body-servant named Jim, who was so genteel 
that I always called him 6 Dandy Jim o' Caroline.' Jim 
and Nelly were in love with each other ; but their master, 
for reasons of his own, forbade their meeting together. 


Finding that Nelly tried to elude his vigilance, he sold Jim 
to a New Orleans trader, and the poor girl almost cried her 
handsome eyes out. A day or two after he was sold, Mr. 
Fitzgerald and his lady went to Beaufort on a visit, and 
took their little son and daughter with them. The walls 
of my sleeping-room were to be repaired, and I was told to 
occupy their chamber during their absence. The evening 
after they went away, I sat up rather late reading, and 
w T hen I retired the servants were all asleep. As I sat be- 
fore the looking-glass, arranging my hair for the night, I 
happened to glance toward the reflection of the bed, which 
showed plainly in the mirror ; and I distinctly saw a dark 
eye peeping through an opening in the curtains. My heart 
was in my throat, I assure you ; but I had the presence of 
mind not to cry out or to jump up. I continued combing 
my hair, occasionally glancing toward the eye. If it be one 
of the negroes, thought I, he surely cannot wish to injure 
me, for they all know I am friendly to them. I tried to 
collect all my faculties, to determine what it was best to do. 
I reflected that, if I alarmed the servants, he might be driven 
to attack me in self-defence. I began talking aloud to my- 
self, leisurely taking off my cuffs and collar as I did so, and 
laying my breastpin and watch upon the table. 'I •wish 
Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald were not going to stay so long at 
Beaufort,' said I. ' It is lonesome here, and I don't feel 
at home in this chamber. I sha'n't sleep if I go to bed ; so 
I think I '11 read a little longer.' I looked round on the 
table and chairs, and added : ' There, now ! I 've left my 
book down stairs, and must go for it.' I went down to the 
parlor and locked myself in. A few minutes afterward I 
saw a dark figure steal across the piazza ; and, unless the 
moonlight deceived me, it was Dandy Jim. I wondered at it, 


because I thought he was on his way to New Orleans. Of 
course, there was no sleep for me that night. When the 
household were all astir, I went to the chamber again. 
My watch and breastpin, which I had left on purpose, 
were still lying on the table. It was evident that robbery 
had not been the object. I did not mention the adventure 
to any one. I pitied Jim, and if he had escaped, I had no 
mind to be the means of his recapture. Whatever harm 
he had intended, he had not done it, and there was no 
probability that he would loiter about in that vicinity. I 
had reason to be glad of my silence ; for the next day an 
agent from the slave-trader arrived, saying that Jim had 
escaped, and that they thought he might be lurking near 
where his wife was. When Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald re- 
turned, they questioned Nelly, but she averred that she 
had not seen Jim, or heard from him since he was sold. 
Mr. Fitzgerald went away on horseback that afternoon. 
The horse came back in the evening with an empty saddle, 
and he never returned. The next morning Nelly was miss- 
ing, and she was never found. I thought it right to be 
silent about my adventure. To have done otherwise might 
have produced mischievous results to Jim and Nelly, and 
could do their master no good. I searched the woods in 
every direction, but I never came upon any trace of Mr. 
Fitzgerald, except the marks of footsteps near the sea, be- 
fore the rising of the tide. I had made arrangements 
to return to the North about that time ; but Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald's second son was seized with fever, and I stayed 
with her till he was dead and buried. Then we all came 
to Boston together. About a year after, her little daugh- 
ter, who had been my pupil, died." 

" Poor Mrs. Fitzgerald ! " said Flora. " I have heard 


her allude to her lost children, but I had no idea she had 
suffered so much." 

" She did suffer," replied Mrs. Bright, " though not so 
deeply as some natures would have suffered in the same 
circumstances. Her present situation is far from being en- 
viable. Her father is a hard, grasping man, and he was 
greatly vexed that her splendid marriage turned out to be 
such a failure. It must be very mortifying to her to de- 
pend upon him mainly for the support of herself and son. 
I pitied her, and I pitied Mr. Fitzgerald too. He was 
selfish and dissipated, because he was brought up with 
plenty of money, and slaves to obey everything he chose to 
order. That is enough to spoil any man." 

Rosa had listened with downcast eyes, but now she 
looked up earnestly and said, " That is a very kind judg- 
ment, Mrs. Bright, and I thank you for the lesson." 

" It is a just judgment," replied their sensible hostess. 
" I often tell Mr. Bright we cannot be too thankful that we 
were brought up to wait upon ourselves and earn our own 
living. You will please to excuse me. now, ladies, for it is 
time to prepare tea." 

As she closed the door, Rosa pressed her sister's hand, 
and sighed as she said, " O, this is dreadful ! " 

" Dreadful indeed," rejoined Flora. " To think of him 
as he was when I used to make you blush by singing, 
' Petit hlanc ! mon bon frere ! ' and then to think what an 
end he came to ! " 

The sisters sat in silence for some time, thinking with 
moistened eyes of all that had been kind and pleasant in 
the man who had done them so much wrong. 



IF young Fitzgerald had not been strongly inclined to 
spend the summer in Northampton, he would have 
been urged to it by his worldly-minded mother and grand- 
father, who were disposed to make any effort to place him 
in the vicinity of. Eulalia King. They took possession 
of lodgings on Round Hill in June ; and though very few 
weeks intervened before the college vacation, the time 
seemed so long to Gerald, that he impatiently counted the 
days. Twice he took the journey for a short visit before 
he was established as an inmate of his grandfather's house- 
hold. Alfred Blumenthal had a vacation at the same time, 
and the young people of the three families were together 
almost continually. Songs and glees enlivened their even- 
ings, and nearly every day there were boating excursions, 
or rides on horseback, in which Mr. and Mrs. King and 
Mr. and Mrs. Blumenthal invariably joined. No familiar- 
ity could stale the ever fresh charm of the scenery. The 
beautiful river, softly flowing in sunlight through richly 
cultivated meadows, always seemed to Mr. Blumenthal like 
the visible music of Mendelssohn. Mr. King, who had 
been in Germany, was strongly reminded of the Rhine and 
the Black Forest, while looking on that wide level expanse 
of verdure, with its broad band of sparkling silver, framed 
in with thick dark woods along the river-range of mountains. 
The younger persons of the party more especially enjoyed 
watching Mill River rushing to meet the Connecticut, like 

an impatient boy let loose for the holidays, shouting, and 



laughing, and leaping, on his way homeward. Mrs. Delano 
particularly liked to see, from the summit of Mount Holyoke, 
the handsome villages, lying so still in the distance, giving 
no sign of all the passions, energies, and sorrows that were 
seething, struggling, and aching there ; and the great stretch 
of meadows, diversified with long, unfenced rows of stately 
Indian corn, rich with luxuriant foliage of glossy green, al- 
ternating with broad bands of yellow grain, swayed by the 
breeze like rippling waves of the sea. These regular 1: ries 
of variegated culture, seen from such a height, seemed iike 
handsome striped calico, which earth had put on for her 
working-days, mindful that the richly wooded hills were 
looking down upon Jier picturesque attire. There was 
something peculiarly congenial to the thoughtful soul of the 
cultured lady in the quiet pastoral beauty of the extensive 
scene ; and still more in the sense of serene elevation above 
the whole, seeing it all dwindle into small proportions, as the 
wisdom of age calmly surveys the remote panorama of life. 
These riding parties attracted great attention as they 
passed through the streets ; for all had heard the rumor 
of their wealth, and all were struck by the unusual amount 
of personal beauty, and the distinguished style of dress. 
At that time, the Empress Eugenie had issued her imperial 
decree that all the world should shine in "barbaric gold," — 
a fashion by no means distasteful to the splendor-loving 
sisters. Long sprays of Scotch laburnum mingled their 
golden bells with the dark tresses of Eulalia and Rosen 
Blumen ; a cluster of golden wheat mixed its shining 
threads with Flora's black curls ; and a long, soft feather, 
like " the raven down of darkness," dusted with gold, 
drooped over the edge of Mrs. King's riding-cap, fastened 
to its band by a golden star. Even Mrs. Fitzgerald so far 


changed her livery of the moon as to wear golden buds 
mixed with cerulean flowers. Mrs. Delano looked cool as 
evening among them in her small gray bonnet, with a few 
violets half hidden in silver leaves. Old Mr. Bell not un- 
frequently joined in these excursions. His white hair, and 
long silky white beard, formed a picturesque variety in the 
group ; while all recognized at a glance the thorough-bred 
aristocrat in his naughty bearing, his stern mouth, his cold, 
turquoise eyes, and the clenching expression of his hand. 
Mrs. King seemed to have produced upon him the effect 
Gerald had predicted. No youthful gallant could have 
been more assiduous at her bridle-rein, and he seemed to 
envy his grandson every smile he obtained from her beau- 
tiful lips. 

Both he and Mrs. Fitzgerald viewed with obvious satis- 
faction the growing intimacy between that young gentle- 
man and Eulalia. " Capital match for Gerald, eh ? " said 
Mr. Bell to his daughter. " They say King 's good for 
three millions at least, ■ — some say four." 

" And Eulalia is such a lovely, gentle girl ! " rejoined 
Mrs. Fitzgerald. " I 'm very fond of her, and she seems 
fond of me ; though of course that 's on account of my 
handsome son." 

" Yes, she 's a lovely girl," replied the old gentleman ; 
" and Gerald will be a lucky dog if he wins her. But her 
beauty is n't to be compared to her mother's. If I were 
Emperor of France, and she were a widow, I know who 
would have a chance to become Empress." 

But though Mrs. King lived in such an atmosphere of 
love, and was the object of so much admiration, with ample 
means for indulging her benevolence and her tastes, she 
was evidently far from being happy. Flora observed it, 


and often queried with her husband what could be the 
reason. One day she spoke to Mr. King of the entire ab- 
sence of gayety in her sister, and he said he feared young 
Mr. Fitzgerald painfully reminded her of her lost son. 

Flora reflected upon this answer without being satisfied 
with it. "It does n't seem natural," said she to her hus- 
band. " She parted from that baby when he was but a few 
weeks old, and he has been dead nearly twenty years. She 
has Eulalia to love, and a noble husband, who worships the 
very ground she treads on. It don't seem natural. I won- 
der whether she has a cancer or some other secret disease." 

She redoubled her tenderness^ and exerted all her 
powers of mimicry to amuse her sister. The young folks 
screamed with laughter to see her perform the shuffling 
dances of the negroes, or to hear her accompany their sing- 
ing w T ith imitations of the growling contre-fagotto, or the 
squeaking fife. In vain she filled the room with mocking- 
birds, or showed off the accomplishments of the parrot, or 
dressed herself in a cap with a great shaking bow, like 
Madame Guirlande's, or scolded in vociferous Italian, like 
Signor Pimentero. The utmost these efforts could elicit 
from her sister was a faint, vanishing smile. 

Mr. King noticed all this, and was pained to observe that 
his wife's sadness increased daily. He would not himself 
have chosen young Fitzgerald as a suitor for his daughter, 
fearing he might resemble his father in character as he did 
in person ; but he was willing to promote their acquaint- 
ance, because the young man seemed to be a favorite with 
his lady, and he thought that as a son-in-law he might sup- 
ply the loss of her first-born. But, in their rides and other 
excursions, he was surpi'ised to observe that Mrs. King 
assiduously tried to withdraw Mr. Fitzgerald from her 


daughter, and attach him to herself. Her attentions gen- 
erally proved too flattering to be resisted ; but if the young 
man, yielding to attractions more suited to his age, soon re- 
turned to Eulalia, there was an unmistakable expression 
of pain on her mother's face. Mr. King was puzzled and 
pained by this conduct. Entire confidence had hitherto 
existed between them. Why had she become so reserved ? 
Was the fire of first-love still smouldering in her soul, and 
did a delicate consideration for him lead her to conceal it ? 
He could not believe it, she had so often repeated that to 
love the unworthy was a thing impossible for her. Some- 
times another thought crossed his mind and gave him ex- 
quisite torture, though he repelled it instantly : " Could 
it possibly be that his modest and dignified wife was in 
love with this stripling, who was of an age suitable for her 
daughter ? " Whatever this mysterious cloud might be that 
cast its cold shadow across the sunshine of his home, he 
felt that he could not endure its presence. He resolved to 
seek an explanation with his wife, and to propose an imme- 
diate return to Europe, if either of his conjectures should 
prove true. Returning from a solitary walk, during which 
these ideas had been revolving in his mind, he found her in 
their chamber kneeling by the bedside, sobbing violently. 
With the utmost tenderness he inquired what had grieved 

She answered with a wild exclamation, " Alfred, this 
must be stopped ! " 

" What must be stopped, my dear ? " said he. 

" Gerald Fitzgerald must not court our daughter," she 



" I thought it would please you, dearest," rejoined he. 
" The young man has always seemed to be a favorite of 


yours. I should not have selected him for our Eulalia, for 
fear the qualities of his father might develop themselves 
in him ; but you must remember that he has not been edu- 
cated among slaves. I think we can trust to that to make 
a great difference in his character." 

She groaned aloud, and sobbed out : "It must be stopped. 
It will kill me." 

He sat down by her side, took her hand, and said very 
gravely : " Rosa, you have often told me I was your best 
friend. Why then do you not confide to me what it is 
that troubles you ? " 

" O, I cannot ! I cannot ! " she exclaimed. " I am a 
guilty wretch." And there came a fresh outburst of sobs, 
which she stifled by keeping her face hidden in the bed- 

" Rosa," said he, still more gravely, " you must tell me 
the meaning of this strange conduct. If an unworthy pas- 
sion has taken possession of you, it is your duty to try to 
conquer it for your own sake, for my sake, for our daugh- 
ter's sake. If you will confide in me, I will not judge you 
harshly. I will return to Europe with you, and help you 
to cure yourself. Tell me frankly, Rosa, do you love this 
young man ? " 

She looked up suddenly, and, seeing the extreme sadness 
of his face, she exclaimed : " O Alfred, if you have thought 
that, I must tell you all. I do love Gerald ; but it is be- 
cause he is my own son." 

"Your son!" he exclaimed, springing up, with the feel- 
ing that a great load was lifted from his f heart. He raised 
her to his bosom, and kissed her tearful face again and 
again. The relief was so sudden, that for an instant he 
forgot the strangeness of her declaration. But coming to 


bis senses immediately, he inquired, " How can it be that 
your son passes for Mrs. Fitzgerald's son ? And if it be 
so, why did you not tell me of it ? " 

" I ought to have told you when I consented to marry 
you," she replied. " But your protecting love was so 
precious to me, that I had not the courage to tell you any- 
thing that would diminish your esteem for me. Forgive 
me, dearest. It is the only wrong I have ever done you. 
But I will tell you all now ; and if it changes your love 
for me, I must try to bear it, as a just punishment for the 
wrong I have done. You know how Mr. Fitzgerald de- 
serted me, and how I was stricken down when I discovered 
that I was his slave. My soul almost parted from my body 
during the long illness that followed. When I came to my 
senses, I humbled myself to entreat Mr. Fitzgerald to 
emancipate me, for the sake of our unborn child. He 
promised to do it, but he did not. I was a mere wreck 
when my babe was born, and I had the feeling that I 
should soon die. I loved the helpless little thing ; and 
every time I looked at him, it gave me a pang to think that 
he was born a slave. I sent again and again for papers of 
manumission, but they never came. I don't know whether 
it was mere negligence on the part of Mr. Fitzgerald, or 
whether he meant to punish me for my coldness toward 
him after I discovered how he had deceived me. I was 
weak in body, and much humbled in spirit, after that long 
illness. I felt no resentment toward him. I forgave him, 
and pitied his young wife. The only thing that bound me 
to life was my child. I wanted to recover my strength, 
that I might carry him to some part of the world where 
slavery could not reach him. I was in that state, w T hen 
Madame sent Mr. Duroy to tell me Mr. Fitzgerald w T as in 


debt, and had sold me to that odious Mr. Bruteman, whom 
he had always represented to me as the filthiest soul alive. 
I think that incredible cruelty and that horrible danger 
made me insane. My soul was in a terrible tempest of 
hatred and revenge. If Mr. Fitzgerald had appeared be- 
fore me, I should have stabbed him. I never had such 
feelings before nor since. Unfortunately Chloe had come 
to the cottage that day, with Mrs. Fitzgerald's babe, and 
he was lying asleep by the side of mine. I had wild 
thoughts of killing both the babies, and then killing myself. 
I had actually risen in search of a weapon, but I heard my 
faithful Tulee coming to look upon me, to see that all was 
well, and I lay down again and pretended to be asleep. 
While I waited for her to cease watching over me, that 
frightful mood passed away. Thank God, I was saved from 
committing such horrible deeds. But I was still half frantic 
with misery and fear. A wild, dark storm was raging in 
my soul. I looked at the two babes, and thought how one 
was born to be indulged and honored, while the other was 
born a slave, liable to be sold by his unfeeling father or by 
his father's creditors. Mine was only a week the oldest, 
and was no larger than his brother. They were so exactly 
alike that I could distinguish them only by their dress. I 
exchanged the dresses, Alfred ; and while I did it, I 
laughed to think that, if Mr. Fitzgerald should capture me 
and the little one, and make us over to Mr. Bruteman, he 
would sell the child of his Lily Bell. It was not like me 
to have such feelings. I hope I was insane. Do you 
think I was ? " 

He pressed her to his heart as he replied, " You surely 
had suffering enough to drive you wild, dearest ; and I do 
suppose your reason was unsettled by intensity of anguish." 


She looked at him anxiously, as she asked, "Then it 
does not make you love me less ? " 

" No, darling," he replied ; " for I am sure it was not my 
own gentle Rosa who had such feelings." 

" 0, how I thank you, dear one, for judging me so chari- 
tably," said she. " I hope it was temporary insanity ; and 
always when I think it over, it seems to me it must have 
been. I fell asleep smiling over the revenge I had taken, 
and I slept long and heavily. When I woke, my first wish 
was to change the dresses back again ; but Chloe had gone 
to the plantation with my babe, and Mr. Duroy hurried me 
on board the boat before sunrise. I told no one what I 
had done ; but it filled me with remorse then, and has 
troubled me ever since. I resolved to atone for it, as far 
as I could, by taking the tenderest care of the little change- 
ling, and trying to educate him as well as his own mother 
could have done. It was that which gave me strength to 
work so hard for musical distinction ; and that motive stim- 
ulated me to appear as an opera-singer, though the pub- 
licity was distasteful to me. When I heard that the poor 
little creature was dead, I was tormented with self-reproach, 
and I was all the more unhappy because I could tell no one 
of my trouble. Then you came to console and strengthen 
me with your blessed love, and I grew cheerful again. If 
the changeling had been living at the time you asked me 
to marry you, I should have told you all ; but the poor lit- 
tle creature was dead, and there seemed to be no necessity 
of confessing the wrong I had done. It was a selfish feel- 
ing. I could n't bear the thought of diminishing the love 
that was so precious to my wounded heart. I have now 
told you all, dear husband." 

" Your excuse for concealment is very precious to my 



own heart," he replied. "But I regret you did not tell me 
while we were in Europe ; for then I would not have re- 
turned to the United States till I was quite sure all obsta- 
cles were removed. You know I never formed the project 
until I knew Mr. Fitzgerald was dead." 

" The American gentleman who informed you of his 
death led me into a mistake, which has proved disastrous," 
rejoined she. " lie said that Mrs. Fitzgerald lost her hus- 
band and son about the same time. I was not aware of 
the existence of a second son, and therefore I supposed 
that my first-born had died. I knew that you wanted to 
spend your old age in your native country, and that you 
were particularly desirous to have Eulalia marry in New 
England. The dread I had of meeting my child as the son 
of another, and seeming to him a stranger, was removed by 
his death ; and though I shed tears in secret, a load was 
lifted from my heart. But the old story of avenging 
Furies following the criminal wheresoever he goes seems 
verified in my case. On the day of Mrs. Green's ball, I 
heard two gentlemen in the Revere House talking about 
Mr. Bell ; and one of them said to the other that Mrs. 
Fitzgerald's second son and her daughter had died, and 
that her oldest son was sole heir to Mr. BelPs property. 
My first impulse was to tell you all ; but because I had so 
long concealed my fault, it was all the more difficult to con- 
fess it then. You had so generously overlooked many dis- 
agreeable circumstances connected with my history, that I 
found it extremely painful to add this miserable entangle- 
ment to the list. Still, I foresaw that it must be done, and 
I resolved to do it ; but I was cowardly, and wanted to put 
off the evil day. You may remember, perhaps, that at the 
last moment I objected to attending that ball; but you 


thought it would be rude to disappoint Mrs. Green, merely 
because I felt out of spirits. I went, not dreaming of see- 
ing my son there. I had not looked upon him since the 
little black, silky head drooped on my arm while I ex- 
changed the dresses. You may partly imagine what I 
suffered. And now he and Eulalia are getting in love 
with each other; and I know not what is to be done. 
When you came in, I was praying for strength to seek 
your counsel. What can we do, dear? It will be a great 
disappointment for you to return to Europe, now that you 
have refitted your father's house, and made all your ar- 
rangements to spend the remainder of our days here." 

" I would do it willingly," he replied, " if I thought it 
would avail to separate Gerald and Eulalia. But a voy- 
age to Europe is nothing now-a-days, to people of their 
property. I believe he loves the dear girl ; and if he did 
not, my reputed millions would prevent his grandfather and 
his mother from allowing him to lose sight of her. If we 
were to build a castle on the top of Mount Himalaya, they 
would scale it, you may depend. I see no other remedy 
than to tell Gerald that Eulalia is his sister." 

" 0, I cannot tell him ! " exclaimed she. " It would be 
so dreadful to have my son hate me ! And he would hate 
me ; for I can see that he is very proud." 

In very kind and serious tones he replied : " You know, 
dear Rosa, that you expressed a wish the other day to go 
to the Catholic church in which your mother worshipped, 
because you thought confession and penance would be a 
comfort. You have wisely chosen me for your confessor, 
and if I recommend penance I trust you will think it best 
to follow my advice. I see how difficult it would be to tell 
all your own and your mother's story to so young a man as 
Gerald, and he your own son. I will tell him ; and I need 


not assure you that you will have a loving advocate to 
plead your cause with him. But his mother must know 
why he relinquishes Eulalia, when he has had so much rea- 
son to think himself in favor both with her and her parents. 
Gerald might tell her the mere external facts; but she 
could appreciate and understand them much better if told, 
as they would be told, by a delicate and loving woman, who 
had suffered the wrongs that drove her to madness, and 
who repented bitterly of the fault she had committed. I 
think you ought to make a full confession to Mrs. Fitzger- 
ald ; and having done that, we ought to do whatever she 
chooses to prescribe." 

" It will be a severe penance," she rejoined ; " but I will 
do whatever you think is right. If I could have all the 
suffering, I would not murmur. But Gerald will suffer and 
Eulalia will suffer. And for some weeks I have made you 
unhappy. How sad you look, dear." 

" I am a very happy man, Rosa, compared with what I 
was before you told me this strange story. But I am very 
serious, because I w T ant to be sure of doing what is right in 
these difficult premises. As for Gerald and Eulalia, their 
acquaintance has been very short, and I don't think they 
have spoken of love to each other. Their extreme youth 
Is also a favorable circumstance. Rochefoucault says, ; Ab- 
sence extinguishes small passions, and increases great ones.' 
My own experience proved the truth of one part of the 
maxim ; but perhaps Gerald is of a more volatile temper- 
ament, and will realize the other portion." 

" And do you still love me as well as you ever did ? " 
she asked. 

He folded her more closely as he w T hispered, " I do, dar- 
ling." And for some minutes she wept in silence on his 
generous breast. 



THAT evening young Fitzgerald was closeted two or 
three hours with Mr. King. Though the disclosure 
was made with the utmost delicacy and caution, the young 
man was startled and shocked ; for he inherited pride from 
both his parents, and he had been educated in the preju- 
dices of his grandfather. At first he flushed with indigna- 
tion, and refused to believe he was so disgraced. 

" I don't see that you are disgraced, my young friend," 
replied Mr. King. " The world might indeed so misjudge, 
because it is accustomed to look only on externals ; but 
there is no need that the world should know anything 
about it. And as for your own estimate of yourself, you 
were Mr. Fitzgerald the gentleman before you knew this 
singular story, and you are Mr. Fitzgerald the gentleman 

" I am not so much of a philosopher," rejoined the 
young man. " I shall not find it easy to endure the double 
stain of illegitimacy and alliance with the colored race." 
. Mr. King regarded him with a friendly smile, as he 
answered : " Perhaps this experience, which you find so 
disagreeable, may educate you to more wisdom than the 
schools have done. It may teach you the great lesson of 
looking beneath the surface into the reality of things, my 
son. Legally you are illegitimate ; but morally you are 
not so. Your mother believed herself married to your 
father, and through all the vicissitudes of her life she has 
proved herself a modest, pure, and noble woman. During 


twenty years of intimate acquaintance, I have never known 
her to indulge an unworthy thought, or do a dishonorable 
action, except that of substituting you for Mr. Fitzgerald's 
legal heir. And if I have at all succeeded in impressing 
upon your mind the frantic agony of her soul, desolate and 
shockingly abused as she was, I think you will agree with 
me in considering that an excusable offence ; especially as 
she would have repaired the wrong a few hours later, if it 
had been in her power. With regard to an alliance with 
the colored race, I think it would be a more legitimate 
source of pride to have descended from that truly great 
man, Toussaint L'Ouverture, who was a full-blooded Afri- 
can, than from that unprincipled filibuster called William 
the Conqueror, or from any of his band of robbers, who 
transmitted titles of nobility to their posterity. That is the 
way I have learned to read history, my young friend, in 
the plain sunlight of truth, unchanged by looking at it 
through the deceptive colored glasses of conventional preju- 
dice. Only yesterday you would have felt honored to 
claim my highly accomplished and noble-minded wife as a 
near relative. She is as highly accomplished and noble- 
minded a lady to-day as she was yesterday. The only 
difference is, that to-day you are aware her grandmother 
had a dark complexion. No human being can be really 
stained by anything apart from his own character ; but if 
there were any blot resting upon you, it would come from 
your father. We should remember, however, that He who 
made man can alone justly estimate man's temptations. 
For myself, I believe that Mr. Fitzgerald's sins were largely 
attributable to the system of slavery under which he had 
the misfortune to be educated. He loved pleasure, he was 
rich, and he had irresponsible power over many of his fel- 


low-beings, whom law and public opinion alike deprived 
of protection. Without judging hirn harshly, let his career 
be a warning to you to resist the first enticements to evil ; 
and, as one means of doing so, let me advise you never to 
place yourself in that state of society which had such a 
malign influence upon him." 

" Give me time to think/ 1 rejoined the young man, 
" This has come upon me so suddenly that I feel stunned." 

" That I can easily imagine," replied his friend. " But 
I wish you to understand distinctly, that it depends entirely 
upon Mrs. Fitzgerald and yourself to decide what is to be 
done in relation to this perplexing affair. We are ready 
to do anything you wish, or to take any position you pre- 
scribe for us. You may prefer to pass in society merely as 
my young friend, but you are my step-son, you know ; and 
should you at any time of your life need my services, you 
may rely upon me as an affectionate father." 

That word brought cherished hopes to Gerald's mind, 
and he sighed as he answered, " I thank you." 

" Whatever outward inconveniences may arise from this 
state of things," resumed Mr. King, " we prefer to have 
them fall upon ourselves. It is of course desirable that 
you and my daughter should not meet at present. Your 
vacation has nearly expired, and perhaps you will deem it 
prudent to return a little sooner than you intended. We 
shall remain here till late in the autumn ; and then, if cir- 
cumstances render it necessary, we will remove Eulalia to 
Cuba, or elsewhere, for the winter. Try to bear this dis- 
appointment bravely, my son. As soon as you feel suffi- 
ciently calm, I would advise you to seek an interview with 
your mother. Her heart yearns for you, and the longer 
your meeting is deferred, the more embarrassing it will be." 


While this conversation was going on in the parlor, the 
two mothers of the young man were talking confidentially 
up stairs. The intense curiosity which Mrs. Fitzgerald 
had formerly felt was at once renewed when Mrs. King 
said, " Do you remember having heard any one singing 
about the house and garden at Magnolia Lawn, the first 
evening you spent there ? " 

" Indeed I do," she replied ; " and when I first heard 
you in Rome, I repeatedly said your voice was precisely 
like that singer's." 

" You might well be reminded of it," responded Mrs. 
King, " for I was the person you heard at Magnolia Lawn, 
and these are the eyes that peeped at you through the lat- 
tice of the veranda." 

" But why were you there ? And why did you keep 
yourself invisible?" inquired Mrs. Fitzgerald. 

Rosa hesitated a moment, embarrassed how to choose 
w r ords to convey the unwelcome facts. " My dear lady," 
said she, " we have both had very sad experiences. On 
my side, they have been healed by time ; and I trust it is 
the same with you. Will it pain you too much to hear 
something disparaging to the memory of your deceased 
husband ? " 

Mrs. Fitzgerald colored very deeply, and remained silent. 

" Nothing but an imperious necessity would induce me 
to say what I am about to say," continued Mrs. King ; 
" not only because I am very reluctant to w T ound your feel- 
ings, but because the recital is humiliating and painful to 
myself. When I peeped at you in your bridal attire, I 
believed myself to be Mr. Fitzgerald's wife. Our marriage 
had been kept strictly private, he always assuring me that 
it was only for a time. But you need not look so alarmed. 


I was not his wife. I learned the next morning that I had 
been deceived by a sham ceremony. And even if it had 
been genuine, the marriage would not have been valid by 
the laws of Louisiana, where it was performed ; though I 
did not know that fact at the time. No marriage with a 
slave is valid in that State. My mother was a quadroon 
slave, and by the law that ' a child follows the condition of 
the mother,' I also became a slave." 

" You a slave ! " exclaimed Mrs. Fitzgerald, with un- 
feigned astonishment. " That is incredible. That goes 
beyond any of the stories Abolitionists make up to keep 
the country in agitation." 

" Judging by my own experience," rejoined Mrs. King, 
u I should say that the most fertile imagination could invent 
nothing more strange and romantic than many of the inci- 
dents which grow out of slavery." 

She then went on to repeat her story in detail ; not ac- 
cusing Mr. Fitzgerald more than was absolutely necessary 
to explain the agonized and frantic state of mind in which 
she had changed the children. Mrs. Fitzgerald listened 
with increasing agitation as she went on ; and when it came 
to that avowal, she burst out with the passionate exclama- 
tion : " Then Gerald is not my son ! And I love him so ! " 

Mrs. King took her hand and pressed it gently as she 
said : " You can love him still, dear lady, and he will love 
you. Doubtless you will always seem to him like his own 
mother. If he takes an aversion to me, it will give me 
acute pain ; but I shall try to bear it meekly, as a part of 
the punishment my fault deserves." 

" If you don't intend to take him from me, what was the 
use of telling me this dreadful story ? " impatiently asked 
Mrs. Fitzgerald. 



" I felt compelled to do it on Eulalia's account," re- 
sponded Mrs. King. 

" Ah, yes ! " sighed the lady. " How disappointed he will 
be, poor fellow ! ' After a brief pause, she added, vehe- 
mently : " But whatever you may say, he is my son. I 
never will give him up. He has slept in my arms. I 
have sung him to sleep. I taught him all his little hymns 
and songs. He loves me ; and I will never consent to 
take a second place in his affections." 

" You shall not be asked to do so, dear lady," meekly 
replied Mrs. King. " I will, as in duty bound, take any 
place you choose to assign me." 

Somewhat disarmed by this humility, Mrs. Fitzgerald 
said, in a softenecr tone : "I pity you, Mrs. King. You 
have had a great deal of trouble, and this is a very trying 
situation you are in. But it would break my heart to give 
up Gerald. And then you must see, of course, what an 
embarrassing position it would place me in before the 

" I see no reason why the world should know anything 
about it," rejoined Mrs. King. " For Gerald's sake, as 
well as our own, it is very desirable that the secret should 
be kept between ourselves." 

" You may safely trust my pride for that," she replied. 

" Do you think your father ought to be included in our 
confidence," inquired Mrs. King. 

" No indeed," she replied, hastily. " He never can bear 
to hear my poor husband mentioned. Besides, he has had 
the gout a good deal lately, and is more irritable than 

As she rose to go, Mrs. King said : " Then, with the ex- 
ception of Eulalia, everything remains outwardly as it was. 


Can you forgive me ? I do believe I was insane with mis- 
ery ; and you don't know how I have been haunted with 

" You must have suffered terribly," rejoined Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald, evading a direct answer to the question. " But we 
had better not talk any more about it now. I am bewil- 
dered, and don't know what to think. Only one thing is 
fixed in my mind : Gerald is my son." 

They parted politely, but with coldness on Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald's side. There had arisen in her mind a double dis- 
like toward Mrs. King, as the first love of her husband, and 
as the mother of the elegant young man who was to her 
an object of pride as well as fondness. But her chagrin 
was not without compensation. Mrs. King's superior 
wealth and beauty had been felt by her as somewhat over- 
shadowing ; and the mortifying circumstances she had now 
discovered in her history seemed, in her imagination, to 
bring her down below a level with herself. She and 
Gerald sat up late into the night, talking over this strange 
disclosure. She was rather jealous of the compassion he 
expressed for Mrs. King, and of his admiration for her 
manners and character ; though they mutually declared, 
again and again, that they could realize no change what- 
ever in their relation to each other. 

The wise words of Mr. King had not been without their 
effect on Gerald. The tumult of emotions gradually sub- 
sided, and he began to realize that these external accidents 
made no essential change in himself. The next morning 
he requested an interview with Mrs. King, and was re- 
ceived alone. When he entered, she cast upon him a hesi- 
tating, beseeching look ; but when he said, " My mother ! " 
she flew into his arms, ond wept upon his neck. 


" Then you do not hate me ? " she said, in a voice choked 
with emotion. " You are not ashamed to call me mother ? ' 

" It was only yesterday," he replied, " that I thought 
with pride and joy of the possibility that I might some day 
call you by that dear name. If I had heard these particu- 
lars without knowing you, they might have repelled me. 
But I have admired you from the first moment ; I have 
lately been learning to love you ; and I am familiar with 
the thought of being your son." 

She raised her expressive eyes to bis with such a look of 
love, that he could not refrain from giving her a filial kiss 
and pressing her warmly to his heart. " I was so afraid 
you would regard me with dislike," said she. " You can 
understand now why it made me so faint to think of sing- 
ing ' M 9 - odi ! Ah, w? odi ! 9 with you at Mrs. Green's party. 
How could I have borne your tones of anguish when you 
discovered that you were connected with the Borgias ? 
And how could I have helped falling on your neck when 
you sang 4 Madre mia ' ? But I must not forget that the 
mother who tended your childhood has the best claim to 
your affection," she added mournfully. 

" I love her, and always shall love her. It cannot be 
otherwise," rejoined he. "It has been the pleasant habit 
of so many years. But ought I not to consider myself a 
lucky fellow to have two such mothers ? I don't know how 
I am to distinguish you. I must call you Rose-mother and 
Lily-mother, I believe." 

She smiled as he spoke, and she said, " Then it has not 
made you so very unhappy to know that you are my son ? " 

His countenance changed as he replied : " My only un- 
iiappiness is the loss of Eulalia. That disappointment I 
must bear as I can." 


" You are both very young," rejoined she ; " and perhaps 
you may see another — " 

" I don't want to hear about that now," he exclaimed 
impetuously, moving hastily toward the window, against 
which he leaned for a moment. When he turned, he saw 
that his mother was weeping ; and he stooped to kiss her 
forehead, with tender apologies for his abruptness. 

" Thank God," she said, " for these brief moments of 
happiness with my son." 

" Yes, they must be brief," he replied. " I must go 
away and stay away. But I shall always think of you 
with affection, and cherish the deepest sympathy for your 
wrongs and sufferings." 

Again she folded him in her arms, and they kissed and 
ble?sed each other at parting. She gazed after him wist- 
fully till he was out of sight. " Alas ! " murmured she, " he 
cannot be a son to me, and I cannot be a mother to him." 
She recalled the lonely, sad hours when she embroidered 
his baby clothes, with none but Tulee to sympathize with 
her. She remembered how the little black silky head 
looked as she first fondled him on her arm ; and the tears 
began to flow like rain. But she roused in a few moments, 
saying to herself: " This is all wrong and selfish. I ought 
to be glad that he loves his Lily-mother, that he can live 
with her, and that her heart will not be made desolate by 
my fault. Father of mercies ! this is hard to bear. 
Help me to bear it as I ought ! " She bowed her head in 
silence for a while ; then, rising up, she said : " Have I not 
my lovely Eulalia ? Poor child ! I must be very tender 
with her in this trial of her young heart." 

She saw there w r as need to be very tender, when a fare- 
well card was sent the next day, with a bouquet of delicate 
flowers from Gerald Fitzgerald. 



THE next morning after these conversations, Mrs. 
Blumenthal, who was as yet unconscious of the secret 
they had revealed, was singing in the garden, while she 
gathered some flowers for her vases. Mr. Bright, who was 
cutting up weeds, stopped and listened, keeping time on the 
handle of his hoe. When Flora came up to him, she 
glanced at the motion of his fingers and smiled. " Can't 
help it, ma'am," said he. " "When I hear your voice, it 's 
as much as ever I can do to keep from dancing ; but if I 
should do that, I should shock my neighbor the Deacon. 
Did you see the stage stop there, last night ? They 've 
got visitors from Carolina, — his daughter, and her husband 
and children. I reckon I stirred him up yesterday. He 
came to my shop to pay for some shoeing he 'd had done. 
So I invited him to attend our anti-slavery meeting to- 
morrow evening. He took it as an insult, and said he 
did n't need to be instructed by such sort of men as spoke 
at our meetings. ' I know some of us are what they call 
mudsills down South,' said I ; ' but it might do you good to 
go and hear 'em, Deacon. When a man's lamp's out, it's 
better to light it by the kitchen fire than to go blundering 
about in the dark, hitting himself against everything.' He 
said we should find it very convenient if we had slaves 
here ; for Northern women were mere beasts of burden. 
I told him that was better than to be beasts of prey. I 
thought afterward I was n't very polite. I don't mean to 
go headlong against other folks' prejudices ; but the fact is, 


a man never knows with what impetus he is going till he 
comes up against a post. I like to see a man firm as a 
rock in his opinions. I have a sort of a respect for a rock, 
even if it is a little mossy. But when I come across a 
post, I like to give it a shaking, to find out whether it's 
rotten at the foundation. As to things in general, I calcu- 
late to be an obliging neighbor ; but I shall keep a lookout 
on these Carolina folks. If they've brought any blacks 
with 'em, I shall let 'em know what the laws of Massachu- 
setts are ; and then they may take their freedom or not, 
just as they choose." 

" That 's right," replied Mrs. Blumenthal ; " and when 
you and the Deacon have another encounter, I hope I shall 
be near enough to hear it." 

As she walked away, tying up her bouquet with a spear 
of striped grass, she heard him whistling the tune she had 
been singing. When she returned to the parlor, she seated 
herself near the open window, with a handkerchief, on which 
she was embroidering Mrs. Delano's initials. Mr. Bright's 
remarks had somewhat excited her curiosity, and from time 
to time she glanced toward Deacon Stillham's grounds. A 
hawthorn hedge, neatly clipped, separated the two gardens ; 
but here and there the foliage had died away and left smail 
open spaces. All at once, a pretty little curly head appeared 
at one of these leafy lunettes, and an infantile voice called 
out, " You 're a Bob-o-lith-o-nitht ! " 

" Do come here, Mamita Lila, and see this little darling," 
said Flora, laughing. 

For a moment she was invisible. Then the cherub face 
eioae peeping out again ; and this time the little mouth was 
laughing, when it repeated, " You 're a Bob-o-lith-o-nitht." 

" Is n't it amusing to hear such an infant trying to abuse 


us with a big mouthful of a word, to which she attaches no 
meaning ? " said Mrs. Delano. 

Flora beckoned with her hand, and called out, " Come 
in and see the Bobolithonithts, darling." The little crea- 
ture laughed and ran away. At that moment, a bright tur- 
ban was seen moving along above the bushes. Then a 
black face became visible. Flora sprang up with a quick 
cry, and rushed out of the room, upsetting her basket, and 
leaving balls and thimble rolling about the floor. Placing 
her foot on a stump, she leaped over the hedge like an 
opera-dancer, and the next moment she had the negro 
woman in her arms, exclaiming : " Bless you, Tulee ! You 
are alive, after all ! " 

The black woman was startled and bewildered for an in 
stant ; then she held her off at arm's length, and looked at 
her with astonishment, saying : " Bless the Lord ! Is it 
you, Missy Flory ? or is it a sperit ? Well now, is it you, 
little one?" 

" Yes, Tulee ; it is I," she replied. " The same Missy 
Flory that used to plague your life out with her tricks." 

The colored woman hugged and kissed, and hugged and 
kissed, and laughed and cried ; ever and anon exclaiming, 
" Bless the Lord ! " 

Meanwhile, the playful cherub was peeping at Joe Bright 
through another hole in the hedge, all unconscious how 
pretty her little fair face looked in its frame of green 
leaves, but delighted with her own sauciness, as she re- 
peated, " You 're a Bob-o-lith-o-nitht ! you 're a Bob-o-lith- 


o-nitht ! ' When he tried to kiss her, she scampered away, 
but soon reappeared again to renew the fun. 

While this by-play was going on, a white servant came 
through the Deacon's grounds, and said to Tulee, " Mrs. 


Robbem wants you to come to her immediately, and bring 

" I must go now, darling," said Tulee, clasping Flora's 
hand with a warm pressure. 

" Come again quickly," said Flora. 

" As soon as I can," she replied, and hurried away with 
her little charge. 

When Mr. Bright offered his hand to help Mrs. Blumen- 
thal over the hedge, he burst into a hearty laugh. " Was n't 
it funny," said he, " to hear that baby calling us Bob-o-lith- 
o-nithts ? They begin education early down South. Be- 
fore the summer is out she '11 be talking about the cuth o' 
Ham, and telling the story of Onethimuth. But they 've 
found a mare's nest now, Mrs. Blumenthal. The Deacon 
will be writing to his Carolina friends how the Massachu- 
setts ladies hug and kiss niggers." 

Flora smiled as she answered : " I suppose it must seem 
strange to them, Mr. Bright. But the fact is, that black 
woman tended me when I was a child ; and I have n't 
seen her for twenty years." 

As soon as she entered the house, she explained the 
scene to Mrs. Delano, and then said to her daughter : 
" Now, Rosen Blumen, you may leave your drawing and 
go to Aunt Rosa, and tell her I want to see her for some- 
thing special, and she must come as soon as possible. Don't 
tell her anything more. You may stay and spend the day 
with Eulalia, if you like." 

" How many mysteries and surprises we have," observed 
Mrs. Delano. " A dozen novels might be made out of your 

The hasty summons found Mrs. King still melancholy 

with the thought that her newly found son could be no 

16* x 


more to her than a shadow. Glad to have her thoughts 
turned in another direction, she sent Rosen Blumen to her 
cousin, and immediately prepared to join her sister. Flora, 
who was watching for her, ran out to the gate to meet her, 
and before she entered the house announced that Tulee 
was alive. The little that was known was soon communi- 
cated, and they watched with the greatest anxiety for the 
reappearance of Tulee. But the bright turban was seen no 
more during the forenoon ; and throughout the afternoon 
no one but the Deacon and his gardener were visible about 
the grounds. The hours of waiting were spent by the sis- 
ters and Mrs. Delano in a full explanation of the secret 
history of Gerald Fitzgerald, and Mrs. King's consequent 
depression of spirits. The evening wore away without any 
tidings from Tulee. Between nine and ten o'clock they 
heard the voice of the Deacon loud in prayer. Joe Bright, 
who was passing the open window, stopped to say : " He 
means his neighbors shall hear him, anyhow. I reckon he 
thinks it 's a good investment for character. He 's a cute 
manager, the Deacon is ; and a quickster, too, according to 
his own account ; for he told me when he made up his 
mind to have religion, he was n't half an hour about it. 
I 'd a mind to tell him I should think slave-trading religion 
was a job done by contract, knocked up in a hurry." 

" Mr. Bright," said Flora, in a low voice, " if you see 
that colored woman, I wish you would speak to her, and 
show her the way in." 

The sisters sat talking over their affairs with their hus- 
bands, in low tones, listening anxiously meanwhile to every 
sound. Mr. and Mrs. King were just saying they thought 
it was best to return home, when Mr. Bright opened the 
door and Tulee walked in. Of course, there was a general 


exclaiming and embracing. There was no need of intro- 
ducing the husbands, for Tulee remembered them both. 
As soon as she could take breath, she said : " I 've had such 
a time to get here ! I 've been trying all day, and I could n't 
get a chance, they kept such watch of me. At last, when 
they was all abed and asleep, I crept down stairs softly, 
and come out of the back door, and locked it after me." 

" Come right up stairs with me," said Rosa. " I want to 
speak to you." As soon as they were alone, she said, 
" Tulee, where is the baby ? " 

" Don't know no more than the dead what 's become of 
the poor little picaninny," she replied. "After ye went 
away, Missy Duroy's cousin, who was a sea-captain, brought 
his baby with a black nurse to board there, because his 
wife had died. I remember how ye looked at me when ye 
said, ' Take good care of the poor little baby.' And I did 
try to take good care of him. I toted him about a bit out 
doors whenever I could get a chance. One day, just as I 
was going back into the house, a gentleman o' horseback 
turned and looked at me. I did n't think anything about 
it then ; but the next day, he come to the house, and he 
said I was Mr. Royal's slave, and that Mr. Fitzgerald 
bought me. He wanted to know where ye was ; and when 
I told him ye 'd gone over the sea with Madame and the 
Signor, he cursed and swore, and said he 'd been cheated. 
When he went away, Missis Duroy said it was Mr. Brute- 
man. I did n't think there was much to be 'fraid of, 'cause 
ye 'd got away safe, and I had free papers, and the pic- 
aninny was too small to be sold. But I remembered ye 
was always anxious about his being a slave, and I was a 
little uneasy. One day when the sea-captain came to see 
his baby, he was marking an anchor on his own arm with 


a needle and some sort of black stuff; and he said 't would 
never come out. 1 thought if they should carry off yer 
picaninny, it would be more easy to find him again if he 
was marked. I told the captain I had heard ye call him 
Gerald ; and he said he would mark G. F. on his arm. 
The poor little thing worried in his sleep while he was do- 
ing it, and Missis Duroy scolded at me for hurting him. 
The next week Massa Duroy was taken with yellow-fever ; 
and then Missis Duroy was taken, and then the captain's 
baby and the black nurse. I was frighted, and tried to 
keep the picaninny out doors all I could. One day, when 
I'd gone a bit from the house, two men grabbed us and put 
us in a cart. When I screamed, they beat me, and swore 
at me for a runaway nigger. When I said I was free, they 
beat me more, and told me to shut up. They put us in the 
calaboose ; and when I told 'em the picaninny belonged to 
a white lady, they laughed and said there was a great many 
white niggers. Mr. Bruteman come to see us, and he said 
we was his niggers. When I showed him my free paper, 
he said 't want good for anything, and tore it to pieces. O 
Missy Rosy, that was a dreadful dark time. The jailer's 
wife did n't seem so hard-hearted as the rest. I showed her 
the mark on the picaninny's arm, and gave her one of the 
little shirts ye embroidered ; and I told her if they sold me 
away from him, a white lady would send for him. They 
did sell me, Missy Rosy. Mr. Robbem, a Caroliny slave- 
trader bought me, and he 's my massa now. I don't know 
what they did with the picaninny. I did n't know how to 
write, and I did n't know where ye was*. I was always 
hoping ye would come for me some time ; and at last I 
thought ye must be dead." 

" Poor Tulee," said Rosa. " They wrote that Mr. and 


Mrs. Duroy and the black woman and the white baby all 
died of yellow-fever ; and we did n't know there was any 
other black woman there. I 've sent to New Orleans, and 
I 've been there ; and many a cry I 've had, because we 
could n't find you. But your troubles are all over now. 
You shall come and live with us." 

" But I 'm Mr. Robbem's slave," replied Tulee. 

" No, you are not," answered Rosa. " You became free 
the moment they brought you to Massachusetts." 

" Is it really so ? " said Tulee, brightening up in look 
and tone. Then, with a sudden sadness, she added : " I 've 
got three chiPren in Carolina. They 've sold two on 'em ; 
but they 've left me my little Benny, eight years old. 
They would n't have brought me here, if they had n't 
known Benny would pull me back." 

" We '11 buy your children," said Rosa. 

" Bless ye, Missy Rosy ! " she exclaimed. " Ye 's got 
the same kind heart ye always had. How glad I am to see 
ye all so happy ! " 

" O Tulee ! " groaned Rosa, " I can never be happy till 
that poor little baby is found. I 've no doubt that wicked 
Bruteman sold him." She covered her face with her 
hands, and the tears trickled through her fingers. 

" The Lord comfort ye ! " said Tulee, " I did all I could 
for yer poor little picaninny." 

"I know you did, Tulee," she replied. " But I am so 
sorry Madame did n't take you with us ! When she told 
me she had left you, I was afraid something bad would 
happen ; and I would have gone back for you if I could. 
But it is too late to talk any more now. Mr. King is wait- 
ing for me to go home. Why can't you go with us to* 
night? " . • 


" I must go back," rejoined Tulee. " I Ve got the key 
with me, and I left the picaninny asleep in my bed. I '11 
come again to-morrow night, if I can." 

" Don't say if you can, Tulee," replied Mrs. King. " Re- 
member you are not a slave here. You can walk away at 
mid-day, and tell them you are going to live with us." 

" They 'd lock me up and send me back to Caroliny, if I 
told 'em so," said Tulee. " But I '11 come, Missy Rosy." 

Rosa kissed the dark cheek she had so often kissed when 
they were children together, and they parted for the night. 

The next day and the next night passed without a visit 
from Tulee. Mr. and Mrs. Bright, who entered into the 
affair with the liveliest interest, expressed the opinion that 
she had been spirited away and sent South. The sisters 
began to entertain a similar fear ; and it was decided that 
their husbands should call with them the following morn- 
ing, to have a talk with Mr. and Mrs. Robbem. But not 
long after breakfast, Tulee stole into the back door with the 
cherub in her arms. 

" O Missy Flory," said she, " I tried to get here last 
night. But Missis Robbem takes a heap o' care o' me." 
She said this with a mischievous smile. " When we was at 
the Astor House, she locked up my clothes in her room, 
'cause New York was such a dreadful wicked place, she 
was 'fraid they 'd be stole ; and she never let me out o' her 
sight, for fear the colored waiters in the hotel would be im- 
pudent to me. Last night she sent me away up into the 
cupola to sleep, 'cause she said I could have more room 
there. And when I 'd got the picaninny asleep, and was 
watching for a chance to steal away, she come all the way 
up there very softly, and said she 'd brought me some hot 
drink, 'cause I did n't seem to be well. Then she begun to 


advise me not to go near the next house. She told me 
Abolitionists was very bad people ; that they pretended to 
be great friends to colored folks, but all they wanted was 
to steal 'em and sell 'em to the West Indies. I told her I 
did n't know nothing 'bout Abolitionists ; that the lady I 
was hugging and kissing was a New Orleans lady that 
I used to wait upon when we was picaninnies. She said 
if you had the feelings Southern ladies ought to have, you 
would n't be boarding with Abolitionists. When she went 
down stairs I did n't dare to come here, for fear she 'd come 
up again with some more hot drink. This morning she 
told me to walk up street with the picaninny ; and she 
watched me till I was out o' sight. But I went round and 
round and got over a fence, and come through Massa 
B right's barn." 

Mr. and Mrs. King came in as she was speaking ; and 
she turned to them, saying anxiously, " Do you think, 
Massa, if I don't go back with 'em, they '11 let me have my 
chil'ren ? " 

" Don't call me Massa," replied Mr. King, " I dislike the 
sound of it. Speak to me as other people do. I have no 
doubt we shall manage it so that you will have your chil- 
dren. I will lead home this pretty little Tot, and tell them 
you are going to stay with us." 

With bonbons and funny talk he gained the favor of 
Tot, so that she consented to walk with him. Tulee often 
applied her apron to her eyes, as she watched the little 
creature holding by his finger, and stepping along in child- 
ish fashion, turning her toes inward. When she disap- 
peared through the Deacon's front door, she sat down and 
cried outright. " I love that little picaninny," sobbed she. 
" I 've tended her ever since she was born ; and I love her. 


She '11 cry for Tulee. But I does want to be free, and I 
does want to live with ye, Missy Rosy and Missy Flory." 

Mrs. Robbem met Mr. King as soon as he entered her 
father's door, and said in a tone of stern surprise, " Where 
is my servant, sir?" 

He bowed and answered, " If you will allow me to walk 
in for a few moments, I will explain my errand." As soon 
as they were seated he said : " I came to inform you that 
Tulee does not wish to go back to Carolina ; and that by 
the laws of Massachusetts she has a perfect right to remain 

" She 's an ungrateful wench ! " exclaimed Mrs. Robbem. 
" She 's always been treated kindly, and she would n't have 
thought of taking such a step, if she had n't been put up to 
it by meddlesome Abolitionists, who are always interfering 
with gentlemen's servants." 

" The simple fact is," rejoined Mr. King, " Tulee used 
to be the playmate and attendant of my wife when both of 
them were children. They lived together many years, and 
are strongly attached to each other." 

"If your wife is a Southern lady," replied Mrs. Robbem, 
" she ought to be above such a mean Yankee trick as steal- 
ing my servant from me." 

Her husband entered at that moment, and the visitor 
rose and bowed as he said, " Mr. Robbem, I presume." 

He lowered his head somewhat stiffly in reply ; and his 
wife hastened to say, " The Abolitionists have been decoy- 
ing Tulee away from us." 

Mr. King repeated the explanation he had already made. 

" I thought the w r ench had more feeling," replied Mr. 
Robbem. " She left children in Carolina. But the fact 
is, niggers have no more feeling for their young than so 
many pigs." 


"I judge differently," rejoined Mr. King; "and my 
principal motive for calling was to speak to you about those 
children. I wish to purchase them for Tulee." 

" She shall never have them, sir ! " exclaimed the slave- 
trader, fiercely. " And as for you Abolitionists, all I wish 
is that we had you down South." 

" Differences of opinion must be allowed in a free coun- 
try," replied Mr. King. " I consider slavery a bad insti- 
tution, injurious to the South, and to the whole country. 
But I did not come here to discuss that subject. I simply 
wish to make a plain business statement to you. Tulee 
chooses to take her freedom, and arjy court in Massachu- 
setts will decide that she has a right to take it. But, out 
of gratitude for services she has rendered my wife, I am 
willing to make you gratuitous compensation, provided you 
will enable me to buy all her children. Will you name 
your terms now, or shall I call again ? " 

" She shall never have her children," repeated Mr. Rob- 
bem ; " she has nobody but herself and the Abolitionists to 
blame for it." 

" 1 will, however, call again, after you have thought of 
it more calmly," said Mr. King. " Good morning, sir ; 
good morning, madam." 

His salutations were silently returned with cold, stiff bows. 

A second and third attempt was made with no better 
success. Tulee grew very uneasy. "They '11 sell my 
Benny," said she. " Ye see they ain't got any heart, 'cause 
they 's used to selling picaninnies." 

" What, does this Mr. Robbem carry on the Deacon's old 
business ? " inquired Mr. Bright. 

" Yes, Massa," replied Tulee. " Two years ago, Massa 
Stillham come down to Caroliny to spend the winter, and 


he was round in the slave-pen as brisk as Massa Robbem, 
counting the niggers, and telling how many dollars they 
ought to sell for. He had a dreadful bad fever while he 
was down there, and I nursed him. He was out of his 
head half the time, and he was calling out : ' Going ! going ! 
How much for this likely nigger? Stop that wench's squall- 
ing for her brat ! Carry the brat off!' It was dreadful to 
hear him." 

"I suppose he calculated upon going to heaven if he 
died," rejoined Mr. Bright ; " and if he 'd gone into the 
kingdom with such words in his mouth, it would have been 
a heavenly song for the four-and-twenty elders to accom- 
pany with their golden harps." 

" They '11 sell my Benny," groaned Tulee ; " and then I 
shall never see him a^ain." 

" I have no doubt Mr. King will obtain your children," 
replied Mr. Bright ; " and you should remember that, if you 
go back South, just as likely as not they will sell him where 
you will never see him or hear from him." 

" I know it, Massa, I know it," answered she. 

" I am not your master," rejoined he. " I allow no man 
to call me master, and certainly not any woman ; though I 
don't belong to the chivalry." 

His prediction proved true. The Deacon and his son-in- 
law held frequent consultations. " This Mr. King is rich 
as Croesus," said the Deacon ; " and if he thinks his wife 
owes a debt to Tulee, he '11 be willing to give a round sum 
for her children. I reckon you can make a better bargain 
with him than you could in the New Orleans market." 

" Do you suppose he 'd give five thousand dollars for the 
young niggers ? " inquired the trader. 

" Try him/' said the Deacon. 


The final result was that the sum was deposited by Mr. 
King, to be paid over whenever Tulee's children made 
their appearance ; and in due time they all arrived. Tulee 
was full of joy and gratitude ; but Mr. Bright always main- 
tained it was a sin and a shame to pay slave-traders so 
much for what never belonged to them. 

Of course there were endless questions to be asked and 
answered between the sisters and their faithful servant ; 
but all she could tell threw no further light on the destiny 
of the little changeling whom she supposed to be Rosa's 
own child. In the course of these private conversations, 
it came out that she herself had suffered, as all women must 
suffer, who have the feelings of human beings, and the 
treatment of animals. But her own humble little episode 
of love and separation, of sorrow and shame, was whispered 
only to Missy Rosy and Missy Flory. 



^HE probability that the lost child was alive and in 
slavery was a very serious complication of existing 
difficulties. Thinking it prudent to prepare Gerald's mind 
for any contingencies that might occur, Mr. King proceeded 
immediately to Boston to have a conference with him. The 
young man received the news with unexpected composure. 

" It will annoy Lily-mother very much," said he, " and 
on that account I regret it ; but so far as I am myself con- 
cerned, it would in some respects be a relief to me to get 
out of the false position in which I find myself. Grand- 
father Bell has always grumbled about the expense I have 
been to him in consequence of my father's loss of fortune, 
and of course that adds to the unpleasantness of feeling 
that I am practising a fraud upon him. He is just now 
peculiarly vexed with me for leaving Northampton so sud- 
denly. He considers it an unaccountable caprice of mine, 
and reproaches me with letting Eulalia slip through my fin- 
gers, as he expresses it. Of course, he has no idea how it 
cuts me. This state of things is producing a great change 
in my views. My prevailing wish now is to obtain an in- 
dependent position by my own exertions, and thus be free 
to become familiar with my new self. At present, I feel as 
if there were two of me, and that one was an impostor." 

" I heartily approve of your wish to rely upon your own 
resources," replied Mr. King ; " and I will gladly assist 
you to accomplish it. I have already said you should be 
to me as a son, and I stand by my word ; but I advise 


you, as I would an own son, to devote yourself assiduously 
to some business, profession, or art. Never be a gentleman 
of leisure. It is the worst possible calling a man can have. 
Nothing but stagnation of faculties and weariness of soul 
comes of it. But we will talk about your plans hereafter. 
The urgent business of the present moment is to obtain 
some clew to your missing brother. My conscientious wife 
will suffer continual anxiety till he is found. I must go to 
New Orleans and seek out Mr. Bruteman, to ascertain 
whether he has sold him." 

" Bruteman ! " exclaimed the young man, with sudden 
interest- " Was he the one who seized that ne^ro woman 
and the child ? " 

" Yes," rejoined Mr. King. " But why does that excite 
your interest ? " 

" I am almost ashamed to tell you," replied Gerald. 
" But you know I was educated in the prejudices of my 
father and grandfather. It was natural that I should be 
proud of being the son of a slaveholder, that I should de- 
spise the colored race, and consider abolition a very vulgar 
fanaticism. But the recent discovery that I was myself 
born a slave has put me upon my thoughts, and made me a 
little uneasy about a transaction in which I was concerned. 
The afternoon preceding Mrs. Green's splendid ball, where I 
first saw my beautiful Rose-mother, two fugitive slaves ar- 
rived here in one of grandfather's ships called i The King 
Cotton.' Mr. Bruteman telegraphed to grandfather about 
them, and the next morning he sent me to tell Captain Kane 
to send the slaves down to the islands in the harbor, and 
keep them under guard till a vessel passed that would take 
them back to New Orleans. I did his errand, without be- 
stowing upon the subjects of it any more thought or care 



than I should have done upon two bales of cotton. At part- 
ing, Captain Kane said to me, ' By George, Mr. Fitzgerald, 
one of these fellows looks so much like you, that, if you were 
a little tanned by exposure to the sun, I should n't know you 
apart.' 6 That's flattering,' replied I, ' to be compared to a 
negro.' And I hurried away, being impatient to make an 
early call upon your lady at the Revere House. I don't 
suppose I should ever have thought of it again, if your 
present conversation had not brought it to my mind." 

" Do you know whether Mr. Bruteman sold those slaves 
after they were sent back ? " inquired Mr. King. 

" There is one fact connected with the affair which I will 
tell you, if you promise not to mention it," replied the 
young man. " The Abolitionists annoyed grandfather a 
good deal about those runaways, and he is nervously sensi- 
tive lest they should get hold of it, and publish it in their 
papers." Having received the desired promise, he went on 
to say : " Those slaves were mortgaged to grandfather, and 
he sent orders to have them immediately sold. I presume 
Mr. Bruteman managed the transaction, for they were his 
slaves ; but I don't know whether he reported the name of 
the purchaser. He died two months ago, leaving his affairs 
a good deal involved ; and I heard that some distant con- 
nections in Mississippi were his heirs." 

" Where can I find Captain Kane ? " inquired Mr. 

" He sailed for Calcutta a fortnight ago," rejoined 

" Then there is no other resource but to go to New Or- 
leans, as soon as the weather will permit," was the reply. 

" I honor your zeal," said the young man. " I wish my 
own record was clean on the subject. Since I have taken 


the case home to myself, I have felt that it was mean and 
wrong to send back fugitives from slavery ; but it becomes 
painful, when I think of the possibility of having helped to 
send back my own brother, — and one, too, whom I have 
supplanted in his birthright." 

•&• •31* SI* *3£- Alt 

When Mr. King returned to Northampton, the informa- 
tion he had obtained sent a new pang to the heart of his 
wife. " Then he is a slave ! " she exclaimed. " And 
while the poor fellow was being bound and sent back to 
slavery, I was dancing and receiving homage. Verily the 
Furies do pursue me. Do you think it is necessary to tell 
Mrs. Fitzgerald of this ? " 

" In a reverse of cases, I think you would feel that you 
ought to be informed of everything," he replied. " But I 
will save you from that portion of the pain. It was most 
fitting that a woman should make the first part of the dis- 
closure ; but this new light on the subject can be as well 
revealed by myself." 

" Always kind and considerate," she said. " This news 
will be peculiarly annoying to her, and perhaps she will re- 
ceive it better from you than from me ; for I can see that I 
have lost her favor. But you have taught me that it is of 
more consequence to deserve favor than to have it ; and I 
shall do my utmost to deserve a kindly estimate from her." 

" I confess I am somewhat puzzled by this tangle," re- 
joined her husband. " But where there is both the will 
and the means to repair a wrong, it will be strange if a 
way cannot be found." 

" I would like to sell my diamonds, and all my other ex- 
pensive ornaments, to buy that young man," said she. 

" That you can do, if it will be any gratification to you," 


lie replied ; " but the few thousands I have invested in 
jewels* for you would go but little way toward the full 
remuneration I intend to make, if he can be found. We 
will send the young people out of the way this evening, 
and lay the case before a family council of the elders. I 
should like to consult Blumenthal. I have never known a 
man whose natural instincts were so true as his ; and his 
entire freedom from conventional prejudices reminds me 
of my good father. I have great reliance also on Mrs. 
Delano's delicate perceptions and quiet good sense. And 
our lively little Flora, though she jumps to her conclu- 
sions, always jumps in a straight line, and usually hits the 

As soon as the council was convened, and the subject in- 
troduced, Mrs. Blumenthal exclaimed : " Why, Florimond, 
those slaves in ' The King Cotton ' were the ones you and 
Mr. Goldwin tried so hard to help them find." 

"Yes," rejoined he; "I caught a hasty glimpse of one 
of the poor fellows just as they were seizing him with the 
cry of ' Stop thief!' and his Italian look reminded me so 
forcibly of the danger Flora was once in, that I was ex- 
tremely troubled about him after I heard he was a slave. 
As I recall him to my mind, I do think he resembled young 
Fitzgerald. Mr. Percival might perhaps throw some light 
on the subject ; for he was unwearied in his efforts to rescue 
those fugitives. He already knows Flora's history." 

" I should like to have you go to Boston with me and 
introduce me to him," said Mr. King. 

" That I will do," answered Blumenthal. " I think both 
Mr. Bell and Mrs. Fitzgerald would prefer to have it all 
sink into unquestioned oblivion ; but that does not change 
our duty with regard to the poor fellow." 


" Do you think they ought to be informed of the present 
circumstances ? " inquired Mr. King. 

" If I .were in their position, I should think I ought to 
know all the particulars," replied he ; " and the golden rule 
is as good as it is simple." 

"Mrs. Fitzgerald has great dread of her father's know- 
ing anything about it," responded Rosa ; " and I have an 
earnest desire to spare her pain as far as possible. It 
seems as if she had a right to judge in the premises." 

Mrs. Delano took Mr. Blumenthal's view of the subject, 
and it was decided to leave that point for further consider- 
ation. Flora suggested that some difficulties might be re- 
moved by at once informing Eulalia that Gerald was her 
brother. But Mrs. Delano answered : " Some difficulties 
might be avoided for ourselves by that process ; but the 
good of the young people is a paramount consideration. 
You know none of them are aware of all the antecedents 
in their family history, and it seems to me best that they 
should not know them till their characters are fully formed. 
I should have no objection to telling them of their colored 
ancestry, if it did not involve a knowledge of laws and cus- 
toms and experiences growing out of slavery, which might, 
at this early age, prove unsettling to their principles. Any- 
thing that mystifies moral perceptions is not so easily re- 
moved from youthful minds as breath is wiped from a 


" I have that feeling very deeply fixed with regard to 

our Eulalia," observed Mr. King; "and I really see no 

need of agitating their young, unconscious minds with 

subjects they are too inexperienced to understand. I will 

have a talk with Mrs. Fitzgerald, and then proceed to 


17 Y 


Mrs. Fitzgerald received the announcement with much 
less equanimity than she had manifested on a former occa- 
sion. Though habitually polite, she said very, abruptly : 
" I was in hopes I should never be troubled any more with 
this vulgar subject. Since Mrs. King saw fit to change 
the children, let her take care of the one she has chosen. 
Of course, it would be very disagreeable to me to have a 
son who had been brought up among slaves. If I wished 
to mSke his acquaintance, I could not do it without exciting 
a great deal of remark ; and there has already been too 
much talk about my husband's affairs. But I have no 
wish to see him. I have educated a son to my own liking, 
and everybody says he is an elegant young man. If you 
would cease from telling me that there is a stain in his 
blood, I should never be reminded of it." 

" We thought it right to inform you of everything," 
rejoined Mr. King, " and leave you to decide what was to 
be done." 

" Then, once for all," said she, " please leave Gerald and 
me in peace ; and do what you choose about the other one. 
We have had sufficient annoyance already ; and I never 
wish to hear the subject mentioned again." 


" I accept your decision," replied Mr. King. " If the 
unfortunate young man can be found, I will educate him 
and establish him in business, and do the same for him in 
all respects that you would have done if he had been your 
acknowledged heir." 

" And keep him at a distance from me," said the per- 
turbed lady ; ki for if he resembles Gerald so strongly, it 
would of course give rise to unpleasant inquiries and re- 

The gentleman bowed, wished her good morning, and 


departed, thinking what he had heard was a strange com- 
mentary on natural instincts. 

Mr. Percival was of course greatly surprised and excited 
when he learned the relation which one of the fugitives 
in "The King Cotton" bore to Mr. Bell, "We hear a 
good deal about poetical justice," said he; "but one rarely 
sees it meted out in this world. The hardness of the old 
merchant when Mr. Jackson and I called upon him was a 
thing to be remembered. He indorsed, with warm appro- 
bation, the declaration of the reverend gentleman who pro- 
fessed his willingness to send his mother or brother into 
slavery 5 if the laws of the United States required it." 

" If our friend Mr. Bright was with us, he would say the 
Lord took him at his word," rejoined Mr. Blumenthal, 

An earnest discussion ensued concerning the possibilities 
of the case, and several days were spent in active investi- 
gation. But all the additional light obtained was from a 
sailor, who had been one of the boat's crew that conveved 
the fugitives to the islands in the harbor ; and all he could 
tell was that he heard them call each other George and 
Henry. When he was shown a colored photograph, which 
Gerald had just had taken for his Rose-mother, he at once 
said that was the one named George. 

" This poor fellow must be rescued," said Mr. King, after 
they returned from their unsatisfactory conference with the 
sailor. " Mr. Bell may know who purchased him, and a 
conversation with him seems to be the only alternative." 

" Judging by my own experience, your task is not to be 
envied," rejoined Mr. Percival. " He will be in a tremen- 
dous rage. But perhaps the lesson will do him good. I 
remember Francis Jackson said at the time, that if his 


dark-complexioned grandson should be sent into slavery, it 
might bring him to a realizing sense of the state of things 
he was doing his utmost to encourage." 

The undertaking did indeed seem more formidable to 
Mr. King than anything he had yet encountered ; but true 
to his sense of duty he resolved to go bravely through 
with it. 



THE old merchant received Mr. King with marked 
politeness ; for though he suspected him of anti- 
slavery proclivities, and despised him for that weakness, he 
had great respect for a man whose name was as good as 
gold, and who was the father of such an eligible match as 

After some discursive conversation, Mr. King said, " I 
am desirous to tell you a short story, if you will have pa- 
tience to listen to it." 

" Certainly, sir," replied the old gentleman. 

His visitor accordingly began by telling of Mr. Royal's 
having formed one of those quadroon alliances so common 
in New Orleans ; of his having died insolvent; and of his 
two handsome octoroon daughters having been claimed as 
slaves by his creditors. 

" What the deuce do you suppose I care about his octo- 
roon daughters ? " interrupted Mr. Bell, impatiently. " I 
was n't one of his creditors." 

" Perhaps you will take some interest in it," rejoined 
Mr. King, " when I tell you that the eldest of them was 
married to Mr. Gerald Fitzgerald of Savannah, and that 
she is still living." 

" Do you mean the Mr. Fitzgerald who married my 
daughter Lily ? " inquired he. 

" I do mean him," was the response. 

" It 's false," vociferated Mr. Bell, growing almost pur- 
ple in the face. 



" No, sir, it is not false," replied Mr. King. " But you 
need not be so much excited. The first marriage did not 
render the second illegal ; first, because a sham ceremony 
was performed to deceive the inexperienced girl ; and sec- 
ondly, because, according to the laws of the South, any 
marriage with a slave, however sanctified by religious 
forms, is utterly void in law." 

" I consider such a law a very wise provision," replied 
the merchant. " It is necessary to prevent the inferior 
race from being put on an equality with their superiors. 
The negroes were made to be servants, sir. You may be 
an advocate for amalgamation, but I am not." 

" I would simply ask you to observe that the law you so 
much approve is not a preventive of amalgamation. Mr. 
Fitzgerald married the daughter of the quadroon. The 
only effect of the law was to deprive her of a legal right to 
his support and protection, and to prevent her son from re- 
ceiving any share of his father's property. By another 
Southern law, that ' the child shall follow the condition of 
the mother,' her son became a slave." 

" Well, sir, what interest do you suppose I can take in 
all this ? " interrupted the merchant. " It 's nothing to me, 
sir. The South is competent to make her own laws." 

Mr. King begged his attention a little longer. He then 
proceeded to tell how Mr. Fitzgerald had treated the oc- 
toroon, at the time of his marriage with Miss Bell ; that he 
had subsequently sold her to a very base man, in payment 
of a debt ; that she, terrified and bewildered by the pros- 
pect of such a fate, had, in a moment of frantic revenge, 
changed her babe for his daughter's ; and that consequently 
the Gerald he had been educating as his grandson was in 
fact the son of the octoroon, and born a slave. 


" Really, sir," said Mr. Bell, with a satirical smile, " that 
story might sell for something to a writer of sensation nov- 
els ; but I should hardly have expected to hear it from a 
sensible gentleman like yourself. Pray, on whose testi- 
mony do you expect me to believe such an improbable fic- 
tion ? " 

" On that of the mother herself," replied Mr. King. 

With a very contemptuous curl of his lip, Mr. Bell an- 
swered : " And you really suppose, do you, that I can be 
induced to disinherit my grandson on the testimony of a 
colored woman ? Not I, sir. Thank God, I am not in- 
fected with this negro mania." 

" But you have not asked who the woman is," rejoined 
Mr. King ; " and without knowing that, you cannot judge 
candidly of the value of her testimony." 

" I don't ask, because I don't care," replied the merchant. 
" The negroes are a lying set, sir ; and I am no Aboli- 
tionist, that I should go about retailing their lies." 

Mr. King looked at him an instant, and then answered, 
very calmly : " The mother of that babe, whose word you 
treat so contemptuously, is Mrs. King, my beloved and hon- 
ored wife." 

The old merchant was startled from his propriety ; and, 
forgetful of the gout in his feet, he sprung from his chair, 
exclaiming, " The Devil ! " 

Mr. King, without noticing the abrupt exclamation, went 
on prelate in detail the manner of his first introduction to 
Miss Royal, his compassion for her subsequent misfortunes, 
his many reasons for believing her a pure and noble woman, 
and the circumstances which finally led to their marriage. 
He expressed his conviction that the children had been 
changed in a fit of temporary insanity, and dwelt much on 



his wife's exceeding anxiety to atone for the wrong, as far 
as possible. " I was ignorant of the circumstance," said he, 
" until the increasing attraction between Gerald and Eula- 
lia made an avowal necessary. It gives me great pain to 
tell you all this ; but I thought that, under a reverse of cir- 
cumstances, I should myself prefer to know the facts. I 
am desirous to do my utmost to repair the mischief done by 
a deserted and friendless woman, at a moment when she 
was crazed by distress and terror ; a woman, too, whose 
character I have abundant reason to love and honor. If 
you choose to disinherit Gerald, I will provide for his fu- 
ture as if he were my own son ; and I will repay with in- 
terest all the expense you have incurred for him. I hope 
that this affair may be kept secret from the world, and that 
we may amicably settle it, in such a way that no one will 
be materially injured." 

Somewhat mollified by this proposal, the old gentleman 
inquired in a milder tone, "And where is the young man 
who you say is my daughter's son ? " 

" Until very recently he was supposed to be dead," re- 
joined Mr. King ; "and unfortunately that circumstance led 
my wife to think there was no need of speaking to me con- 
cerning this affair at the time of our marriage. But we 
now have reason to think he may be living ; and that is 
why I have particularly felt it my duty to make this un- 
pleasant revelation." After repeating Tulee's story, he said, 
" You probably have not forgotten that last winter two slaies 
escaped to Boston in your ship ' The Kipg Cotton ' ? " 

The old merchant started as if he had been shot. 

" Try not to be agitated," said Mr. King. " If we keep 
calm, and assist each other, we may perhaps extricate our- 
selves from this disagreeable dilemma, without any very 


disastrous results. I have but one reason for thinking it 
possible there may be some connection between the lost 
babe and one of the slaves whom you sent back to his 
claimant. The two babes were very nearly of an age, and 
so much alike that the exchange passed unnoticed ; and 
the captain of ' The King Cotton ' told Gerald that the eld- 
est of those slaves resembled him so much that he should 
not know them apart." 

Mr. Bell covered his face and uttered a deep groan. 
Such distress in an old man powerfully excited Mr. King's 
sympathy ; and moving near to him, he placed his hand on 
his and said : " Don't be so much troubled, sir. This is a 
bad affair, but I think it can be so managed as to do no 
very serious harm. My motive in coming to you at this 
time is to ascertain whether you can furnish me with any 
clew to that young man. I will myself go in search of 
him, and I will take him to Europe and have him educated 
in a manner suitable to his condition, as your descendant 
and the heir of your property." 

The drawn expression of the old merchant's mouth was 
something painful to witness. It seemed as if eyevy nerve 
was pulled to its utmost tension by the excitement in his 
soul. He obviously had to make a strong effort to speak 
when he said, " Do you suppose, sir, that a merchant of 
my standing is going to leave his property to negroes ? ' 

"You forget that this young man is pure Anglo-Saxon," 
replied Mr. King. 

" I tell you, sir," rejoined Mr. Bell, " that the mulatto 
who was with him was his wife ; and if he is proved to be 
my grandson, I '11 never see him, nor have anything to do 
with him, unless he gives her up ; not if you educate him 
with the Prince Royal of France or England. A pretty 



dilemma you have placed me in, sir. My property, it 
seems, must either go to Gerald, who you say has negro 
blood in his veins, or to this other fellow, who is a slave 
with a negro wife." 

" But she could be educated in Europe also, 1 ' pleaded 
Mr. King ; " and I could establish him permanently in lu- 
crative business abroad. By this arrangement — " 

" Go to the Devil with your arrangements ! " interrupted 
the merchant, losing all command of himself. " If you ex- 
pect to arrange a pack of mulatto heirs for me, you are 
mistaken, sir." 

He rose up and struck his chair upon the floor with a 
vengeance, and his face was purple with rage, as he vocif- 
erated : " I '11 have legal redress for this, sir. I '11 expose 
your wife, sir. I '11 lay my damages at a million, sir." 

Mr. King bowed and said, " I will see you again when 
you are more calm." 

As he went out, he heard Mr. Bell striding across the 
room and thrashing the furniture about. " Poor old gen- 
tleman!" thought he. "I hope I shall succeed in convincing 
him how little I value money in comparison with righting 
this wrong, as far as possible. Alas ! it would never have 
taken place had there not been a great antecedent wrong ; 
and that again grew out of the monstrous evil of slavery." 

He had said to the old merchant, " I will see you again 
when you are calmer." And when he saw him again, he 
was indeed calm, for he had died suddenly, of a fit produced 
by violent excitement. 



A FEW weeks after the funeral of Mr. Bell, Gerald 
wrote the following letter to Mr. King : — 

" My honored and dear Friend, — Lily-mother has de- 
cided to go to Europe this fall, that I may have certain 
educational advantages which she has planned for me. 
That is the only reason she assigns ; but she is evidently 
nervous about your investigations, and I think a wish to be 
out of the country for the present has had some effect in 
producing this decision. I have not sought to influence 
her concerning this, or the other important point you wot 
of. My desire is to conform to her wishes, and promote 
her happiness in any way she chooses. This it is my duty 
as well as my pleasure to do. She intends to remain in 
Europe a year, perhaps longer. I wish very much to see 
you all ; and Eulalia might well consider me a very impo- 
lite acquaintance, if I should go without saying good by. 
If you do not return to Boston before we sail, I will, with 
your permission, make a short call upon you in Northamp- 
ton. I thank Rose-mother for her likeness. It will be 
very precious to me. I wish you would add your own and 
another ; for wherever my lot may be cast, you three will 
always be among my dearest memories." 

" I am glad of this arrangement," said Mr. King. " At 
their age, I hope a year of separation will prove suffi- 

The Rose-mother covered the wound in her heart, and 
answered, " Yes, it is best." But the constrained tone of 


the letter pained her, and exeited her mind to that most 
unsatisfactory of all occupations, the thinking over what 
might have been. She had visions of her first-born son, as 
he lay by her side a few hours before Chloe carried him 
away from her sight ; and then there rose before her the 
fair face of that other son, whose pretty little body was 
passing into the roses of Provence. Both of them had 
gone out of her life. Of one she received no tidings 
from the mysterious world of spirits ; while the other was 
walking within her vision, as a shadow, the reality of which 
was intangible. 

Mr. King returned to Boston with his family in season 
for Gerald to make the proposed call before he sailed. 
There was a little heightening of color when he and Eu- 
lalia met, but he had drilled himself to perform the part of 
a polite acquaintance ; and as she thought she had been 
rather negligently treated of late, she w r as cased in the 
armor of maidenly reserve. 

Both Mr. and Mrs. King felt it to be an arduous duty to 
call on Mrs. Fitzgerald. That lady, though she respected 
their conscientiousness, could not help disliking them. 
They had disturbed her relations w r ith Gerald, by suggest- 
ing the idea of another claim upon his affections ; and they 
had offended her pride by introducing the vulgar phantom 
of a slave son to haunt her imagination. She was contin- 
ually jealous of Mrs. King ; so jealous, that Gerald never 
ventured to show her the likeness of his Rose-mother. 
But though the discerning eyes of Mr. and Mrs. King read 
this in the very excess of her polite demonstrations, other 
visitors who w 7 ere present when they called supposed them 
to be her dearest friends, and envied her the distinguished 


Such formal attempts at intercourse only increased -the 
cravings of Rosa's heart, and Mr. King requested Gerald to 
grant her a private interview. Inexpressibly precious were 
these few stolen moments, when she could venture to call 
him son, and hear him call her mother. He brought her 
an enamelled locket containing some of his hair, inscribed 
with the word " Gerald " ; and she told him that to the day 
of her death she would always wear it next her heart. 
He opened a small morocco case, on the velvet lining of 
which lay a lily of delicate silver filigree. 

" Here is a little souvenir for Eulalia," said he. 

Her eyes moistened as she replied, " I fear it would not 
be prudent, my son." 

He averted his face as he answered : " Then give it to 
her in my mother's name. It will be pleasant to me to 

think that my sister is wearing it." 

.u. jf- jt jt. J*. 

"A" TP -TV" W VT 

A few days after Gerald had sailed for Europe, Mr. 
King started for New Orleans, taking with him his wife 
and daughter. An auctioneer was found, who said he had 
sold to a gentleman in Natchez a runaway slave named 
Bob Bruteman, who strongly resembled the likeness of 
Gerald. They proceeded to Natchez and had an interview 
with the purchaser, who recognized a likeness between his 
slave Bob and the picture of Gerald. He said he had 
made a bad bargain of it, for the fellow was intelligent and 
artful, and had escaped from him two months ago. In an- 
swer to his queries, Mr. King stated that, if Bob was the 
one he supposed, he was a white man, and had friends who 
wished to redeem him ; but as the master had obtained no 
clew to the runaway, he could of course give none. So 
their long journey produced no result, except the satisfac- 


tioirof thinking that the object of their interest had escaped 
from slavery. 

It had been their intention to spend the coldest months 
at the South, but a volcano had flared up all of a sudden 
at Harper's Ferry, and boiling lava was rolling all over 
the land. Every Northern man who visited the South 
was eyed suspiciously, as a possible emissary of John 
Brown ; and the fact that Mr. King was seeking to redeem 
a runaway slave was far from increasing confidence in 
him. Finding that silence was unsatisfactory, and that he 
must either indorse slavery or be liable to perpetual provo- 
cations to quarrel, he wrote to Mr. Blumenthal to have 
their house in readiness for their return ; an arrangement 
which Flora and her children hailed with merry shouts 
and clapping of hands. 

When they arrived, they found their house as warm 
as June, with Flora and her family there to receive them, 
backed by a small army of servants, consisting of Tulee, 
with her tall son and daughter, and little Benny, and Tom 
and Chloe ; all of whom had places provided for them, 
either in the household or in Mr. King's commercial estab- 
lishment. Their tropical exuberance of welcome made 
him smile. When the hearty hand-shakings were over, he 
said to his wife, as they passed into the parlor, " It really 
seemed as if we were landing on the coast of Guinea with 
a cargo of beads." 

" O Alfred," rejoined she, " I am so grateful to you for 
employing them all ! You don't know, and never can 
know, how I feel toward these dusky friends ; for you never 
had them watch over you, day after day, and night after 
night, patiently and tenderly leading you up from the val- 
ley of the shadow of death." 


He pressed her hand affectionately, and said, " Inasmuch 
as they did it for you, darling, they did it for me." 

This sentiment was wrought into their daily deportment 
to their servants ; and the result was an harmonious rela- 
tion between employer and employed, which it was beau- 
tiful to witness. But there are skeletons hidden away in 
the happiest households. Mrs. King had hers, and Tom 
and Chloe had theirs. The death of Mr. Bell and the ab- 
sence of Mrs. Fitzgerald left no one in Boston who would 
be likely to recognize them ; but they knew that the Fu- 
gitive Slave Act was still in force, and though they relied 
upon Mr. King's generosity in case of emergency, they had 
an uncomfortable feeling of not being free. It was not so 
with Tulee. She had got beyond Mount Pisgah into the 
Canaan of freedom ; and her happiness was unalloyed. Mr. 
King, though kind and liberal to all, regarded her with es- 
pecial favor, on account of old associations. The golden 
hoops had been taken from her ears when she was in the 
calaboose ; but he had presented her with another pair, 
for he liked to have her look as she did when she opened 
for him that door in New Orleans, which had proved an 
entrance to the temple and palace of his life. She felt her- 
self to be a sort of prime minister in the small kingdom, 
and began to deport herself as one having authority. No 
empress ever had more satisfaction in a royal heir than she 
had in watching her Benny trudging to school, with his 
spelling-book slung over his shoulder, in a green satchel 
Mrs. King had made for him. The stylishness of the es- 
tablishment was also a great source of pride to her ; and 
she often remarked in the kitchen that she had always said 
gold was none too good for Missy Rosy to walk upon. 
Apart from this consideration, she herself had an Oriental 


delight in things that were lustrous and gayly colored. 
Tom had learned to read quite fluently, and was accus- 
tomed to edify his household companions with chapters 
from the Bible on Sunday evenings. The descriptions of 
King Solomon's splendor made a lively impression on Tu- 
lee's mind. When she dusted the spacious parlors, she 
looked admiringly at the large mirrors, the gilded circles 
of gas lights, and the great pictures framed in crimson and 
gold, and thought that the Temple of Solomon could not 
have been more grand. She could scarcely believe Mrs* 
Delano was wealthy. " She 's a beautiful lady," said she 
to Flora ; " but if she 's got plenty o' money, what makes 
her dress so innocent and dull ? There 's Missy Rosy 
now, when she 's dressed for company, she looks like the 
Queen of Shebee." 

One morning Tulee awoke to look out upon a scene 
entirely new to her Southern eyes, and far surpassing 
anything she had imagined of the splendor of Solomon's 
Temple. On the evening previous, the air had been full 
of mist, which, as it grew colder, had settled on the trees 
of the Common, covering every little twig with a panoply 
of ice. A very light snow had fallen softly during the 
night, and sprinkled the ice with a feathery fleece. The 
trees, in this delicate white vesture, standing up against a 
dark blue sky, looked like the glorified spirits of trees. 
Here and there, the sun touched them, and dropped a 
shower of diamonds. Tulee gazed a moment in delighted 
astonishment, and ran to call Chloe, who exclaimed, " They 
looks like great white angels, and Ise feared they '11 fly 
away 'fore Missis gits up." 

Tulee was very impatient for the sound of Mrs. King's 
bell, and as soon as the first tinkle was heard she rushed 


into her dressing-room, exclaiming, " O, clo come, to the 
window, Missy Rosy ! Sure this is silver land." 

Rosa was no less surprised when she looked out upon 
that wonderful vision of the earth, in its transfigured rai- 
ment of snow-glory. " Why, Tulee," said she, " it is dia- 
mond land. I 've seen splendid fairy scenes in the theatres 
of Paris, but never anything so brilliant as this." 

" I used to think the woods down South, all covered with 
jess'mines, was the beautifullest thing," responded Tulee ; 
" but, Lors, Missy Rosy, this is as much handsomer as 
Solomon's Temple was handsomer than a meetin'-house." 

But neither the indoor nor the outdoor splendor, nor all 
the personal comforts they enjoyed, made this favored band 
of colored people forgetful of the brethren they had left in 
bondage. Every word about John Brown was sought for 
and read with avidity. When he was first taken captive, 
Chloe said : " The angel that let Peter out o' prison ha' n't 
growed old an' hard o' hearing. If we prays loud enough, 
he '11 go and open the doors for old John Brown." 

Certainly, it was not for want of the colored people's 
praying loud and long enough, that the prisoner was not su- 
pernaturaily delivered. They did not relinquish the hope 
till the 2d of December : and when that sad day arrived, they 
assembled in their meeting-house to watch and pray. All 
was silent, except now and then an occasional groan, till 
the hands of the clock pointed to the moment of the mar- 
tyr's exit from this world. Then Tom poured forth his 
soul in a mighty voice of prayer, ending with the agonized 
entreaty, " O Lord, thou hast taken away our Moses. 
Raise us up a Joshua ! " And all cried, " Amen ! " 

Chloe, who had faith that could walk the stormiest 
waves, spoke words of fervent cheer to the weeping con- 



gregation. " I tell ye they ha'n't killed old John Brown," 
said she ; " 'cause they could n't kill him. The angel 
that opened the prison doors for Peter has let him out, 
and sent him abroad in a different way from what we 
'spected ; that 's all." 



^HROU GH the following year, the political sky grew 
ever darker with impending clouds, crinkled with 
lightning, and vocal with growlings of approaching thun- 
der. The North continued to make servile concessions, 
which history will blush to record ; but they proved un- 
availing. The arrogance of slaveholders grew by what it 
fed on. Though a conscientious wish to avoid civil war 
mingled largely with the selfishness of trade, and the heart- 
less gambling of politicians, all was alike interpreted by 
them as signs of Northern cowardice. At last, the Sum- 
ter gun was heard booming through the gathering storm. 
Instantly, the air was full of starry banners, and Northern 
pavements resounded with the tramp of horse and the roll- 
ing of artillery wagons. A thrill of patriotic enthusiasm 
kindled the souls of men. No more sending back of slaves. 
All our cities became at once cities of refuge ; for men had 
risen above the letter of the Constitution into the spirit of 
the Declaration of Independence. 

Gerald and his Lily-mother arrived in New York to find 
the social atmosphere all aglow. Under its exciting influ- 
ence, he wrote to Mr. King : — 

" Yesterday, I informed you of our arrival ; and now I 
write to tell you that they are forming a regiment here to 
march to the defence of Washington, and I have joined it. 
Lily-mother was unwilling at first. But a fine set of fel- 
lows are joining, — all first-class young gentlemen. I told 
Lily-mother she would be ashamed to have me loiter behind 


the sons of her acquaintance, and that Mr. Seward said it 
was only an affair of sixty days. So she has consented. 
I enclose a letter to Rose-mother, to ask her blessing on 
my enterprise, which I am quite sure I shall have, together 
with your own." 

Thus, with the unreflecting exhilaration of youth, Gerald 
went forth to the war, as light of heart as if he had been 
joining a boat-race or a hunting excursion ; so little did 
he comprehend that ferocious system of despotism which 
was fastening its fangs on free institutions with the death- 
grapple of a bloodhound. 

For the next two months, his letters, though hurried, 
were frequent, and always- cheerful; mostly filled with tri- 
fling gossipings about camp-life, and affectionate remem- 
brances to those he had left behind. At last, Mr. King 
received one of graver import, which ran thus : — 

" I have met with a strange adventure. A number of 
us were on picket duty, with orders to keep a. sharp look- 
out. We went pacing back and forth on our allotted 
ground, now passing under the shadow of trees, now com- 
ing out into the moonlight. I walked very erect, feeling 
myself every inch a soldier. Sometimes I cast scrutinizing 
glances into groups of shrubbery, and sometimes I gazed 
absently on the sparkling Potomac, while memory was re- 
tracing the events of my life, and recalling the dear ones 
connected with them. Just as I reached a large tree which 
formed the boundary of my prescribed course, the next 
sentinel, whose walk began where mine ended, approached 
the same tree, and before he turned again we met face to 
face for an instant. I started, and I confess to a momentary 
feeling of superstition ; for I thought I had seen myself; 
and that, you know, is said to be a warning of approaching 


death. He could not have seen me very plainly, for I was 
in shadow, while he for an instant was clearly revealed by 
the moonlight Anxious to be sure whether I had seen a 
vision or a reality, when I again approached the tree I 
waited for him ; and a second time I saw such a likeness 
of myself as I never saw excepting in the mirror. He 
turned quickly, and marched away with military prompti- 
tude and precision. I watched him for a moment, as his 
erect figure alternately dipped into shadow and emerged 
into light. I need not tell you what I was thinking of 
while I looked ; for you can easily conjecture. The third 
time we met, I said, ' What is your name ? ' He replied, 
' George Falkner/ and marched away. I write on a drum- 
head, in a hurry. As soon as I can obtain a talk with this 
duplicate of myself, I will write to you again. But I shall 
not mention my adventure to Lily-mother. It would only 
make her unhappy." 

Another letter, which arrived a week after, contained 
merely the following paragraph on the subject that inter- 
ested them most : — 

" We soldiers cannot command our own movements or 
our time. I have been able to see G. F. but once, and 
then our interview was brief. He seemed very reserved 
about himself. He says he came from New York ; but his 
speech is Southern. He talks about ' toting ' things, and 
says he ' disremembers.' I shall try to gain his confidence, 
and perhaps I shall be able to draw him out." 

A fortnight later he wrote : — 

" I have learned from G. F. that the first thing he re- 
members of himself is living with an old negress, about ten 
miles from New Orleans, w r ith eight other children, of vari- 
ous shades, but none so white as himself. He judges he 


was about nine years old when he was carried to New 
Orleans, and let out by a rich man named Bruteman to a 
hotel-keeper, to black boots, do errands, &c. One of 
the children that the old negress brought up with him 
was a mulatto named Henriet. The boys called her Hen, 
he said. He used to 4 tote ' her about when she was a 
baby, and afterward they used to roll in the mud, and 
make mud-pies together. When Hen was twelve years 
old, she was let out to work in the same hotel where he 
was. Soon afterward, Mr. Bruteman put him out to learn 
the carpenter's trade, and he soon became expert at it. 
But though he earned five or six dollars a week, and 
finally nine or ten, he never received any portion of it ; 
except that now and then Mr. Bruteman, when he counted 
his wages, gave him a tip. I never thought of this side 
of the question when I used to hear grandfather talk about 
the rights of slaveholders ; but I feel now, if this had 
been my own case, I should have thought it confounded 
hard. He and Hen were very young when they first be- 
gun to talk about being married ; but he could n't bear the 
thoughts of bringing up a family to be slaves, and they 
watched for an opportunity to run away. After several 
plans which proved abortive, they went boldly on board 
' The King Cotton,' he as a white gentleman, and she dis- 
guised as his boy servant. You know how that attempt 
resulted. He says they were kept two days, with hands 
and feet tied, on an island that was nothing but rock. 
They suffered with cold, though one of the sailors, who 
seemed kind-hearted, covered them with blankets and over- 
coats. He probably did not like the business of guarding 
slaves ; for one night he whispered to G. F., ' Can't you 
swim ? ' But George was very little used to the water, 


and Hen could n't swim at all. Besides, he said, the sail- 
ors had loaded guns, and some of them would have fired 
upon them, if they had heard them plunge ; and even if 
by a miracle they had gained the shore, he thought they 
would be seized and sent back again, just as they were in 

" You may judge how I felt, while I listened to this. 
I wanted to ask his forgiveness, and give him all my mon- 
ey, and my watch, and my ring, and everything. After 
they were carried back, Hen was sold to the hotel-keeper 
for six hundred dollars, and he was sold to a man in 
Natchez for fifteen hundred. After a while, he escaped in 
a woman's dress, contrived to open a communication with 
Hen, and succeeded in carrying her off to New York. 
There he changed his woman's dress, and his slave name 
of Bob Bruteman, and called himself George Falkner. 
When I asked him why he chose that name, he rolled up 
his sleeve and showed me G. F. marked on his arm. He 
said he did n't know who put them there, but he supposed 
they were the initials of his name. He is evidently im- 
pressed by our great resemblance. If he asks me directly 
whether I can conjecture anything about his origin, I hard- 
ly know how it will be best to answer. Do write how 
much or how little I ought to say. Feeling unsafe in 
the city of New York, and being destitute of money, he 
applied to the Abolitionists for advice. They sent him to 
New Rochelle, where he let himself to a Quaker, called 
Friend Joseph Houseman, of whom he hired a small hut. 
There, Hen, whom he now calls Henriet, takes in washing 
and ironing, and there a babe has been born to them. 
When the war broke out he enlisted ; partly because he 
thought it would help him to pay off some old scores with 


slaveholders, and partly because a set of rowdies in the 
village of New Rochelle said he was a white man, and 
threatened to mob him for living with a nigger wife. 
While they were in New York city, he and Henriet were 
regularly married by a colored minister. He said he' did 
it because he hated slavery and could n't bear to live as 
slaves did. I heard him read a few lines from a news- 
paper, and he read them pretty well. He says a little boy, 
son of the carpenter of whom he learned his trade, gave 
him some instruction, and he bought a spelling-book for 
himself. He showed me some beef-bones, on which he 
practises writing with a pencil. When he told me how 
hard he had tried to get what little learning he had, it made 
me ashamed to think how many cakes and toys I received 
as a reward for studying my spelling-book. Pie is teach- 
ing an old negro, who waits upon the soldiers. It is funny 
to see how hard the poor old fellow tries, and to hear what 
strange work he makes of it. It must be ' that stolen wa- 
ters are sweet,' or slaves would never take so much more 
pains than I was ever willing to take to learn to spell out 
the Bible. Sometimes I help G. F. with his old pupil ; 
and I should like to have Mrs. Blumenthal make a sketch 
of us, as I sit on the grass in the shade of some tree, help- 
ing the old negro hammer his syllables together. My 
New York companions laugh at me sometimes ; but I have 
gained great favor with G. F. by this proceeding. He is 
such an ingenious fellow, that he is alwavs in demand to 
make or mend something. When I see how skilful he is 
with tools, I envy him.. I begin to realize what you once 
told me, and which did not please me much at the time, 
that being a fine gentleman is the poorest calling a man 
can devote himself to. 


- " I have written this long letter under difficulties, and at 
various times. I have omitted many particulars, which I 
will try to remember in my next. Enclosed is a note for 
Rose-mother. I hold you all in most affectionate remem- 

Soon after the reception of this letter, news came of the 
defeat at Bull Run, followed by tidings that Gerald was 
among the slain. Mr. King immediately waited upon Mrs. 
Fitzgerald to offer any services that he could render, and it 
was agreed that he should forthwith proceed to Washington 
with her cousin, Mr. Green. They returned with a long 
wooden box, on which was inscribed Gerald's name and 
regiment. It was encased in black walnut without being 
opened, for those who loved him dreaded to see him, marred 
as he was by battle. It was carried to Stone Chapel, 
where a multitude collected to pay the last honors to the 
youthful soldier. A sheathed sword was laid across the 
coffin, on which Mrs. Fitzgerald placed a laurel wreath. 
Just above it, Mrs. King deposited a wreath of white roses, 
in the centre of which Eulalia timidly laid a white lily. 
A long procession followed it to Mount Auburn, with a 
band playing Beethoven's Funeral March. Episcopal ser- 
vices were performed at the grave, which friends and rel- 
atives filled with flowers ; and there, by the side of Mr. 
Bell, the beautiful young man was hidden away from hu- 
man sight. Mr. King's carriage had followed next to Mrs. 
Fitzgerald's ; a circumstance which the public explained 
by a report that the deceased was to have married his 
daughter. Mrs. Fitzgerald felt flattered to have it so un- 
derstood, and she never contradicted it. After her great 
disappointment in her husband, and the loss of her other 

children, all the affection she was capable of feeling had 



centred in Gerald. But hers was not a deep nature, and 
the world held great sway over it. She suffered acutely 
when she first heard of her loss ; but she found no small 
degree of soothing compensation in the praises bestowed on 
her young hero, in the pomp of his funeral, and the gen- 
eral understanding that he was betrothed to the daughter 
of the quatro-millionnaire. 

The depth of Mrs. King's sorrow was known only to 
Him who made the heart. She endeavored to conceal it 
as far as possible, for she felt it to be wrong to cast a 
shadow over the home of her husband and daughter. 
Gerald's likeness was placed in her chamber, where she 
saw it with the first morning light ; but what were her 
reveries while she gazed upon it was told to no one. 
Custom, as well as sincere sympathy, made it necessary 
for her to make a visit of condolence to Mrs. Fitzgerald. 
But she merely took her hand, pressed it gently, and said, 
" May God comfort you." " May God comfort you, also," 
replied Mrs. Fitzgerald, returning the pressure ; and from 
that time henceforth the name of Gerald was never men- 
tioned between them. 

After the funeral it was noticed that Alfred Blumenthal 
appeared abstracted, as if continually occupied with grave 
thoughts. One day, as he stood leaning against the win- 
dow, gazing on the stars and stripes that floated across 
the street, he turned suddenly and exclaimed : " It is 
wrong to be staying here. I ought to be fighting for that 
flag. I must supply poor Gerald's place." 

Mrs. Delano, who had been watching him anxiously, 
rose up and clasped him round the neck, with stronger 
emotion than he had ever seen her manifest. " Must you 
go, my son ? " she said. 


He laid his hand very gently on her head as he replied : 
" Dearest Mamita, you always taught me to obey the voice 
of duty ; and surely it is a duty to help in rescuing Liberty 
from the bloody jaws of this dragon Slavery." 

She lingered an instant on his breast, then, raising her 
tearful face, she silently pressed his hand, while she looked 
into those kind and honest eyes, that so strongly reminded 
her of eyes closed long ago. " You are right, my son," 
murmured she ; " and may God give you strength." 

Turning from her to hide the swelling of his own heart, 
Alfred saw his mother sobbing on his father's bosom. 
" Dearest mamma," said he, " Heaven knows it is hard for 
me. Do not make it harder." 

" It takes the manhood out of him to see you weep, dar- 
ling," said Mr. Blumenthal. " Be a brave little woman, 
and cheerfully give your dearest and best for the country." 

She wiped her eyes, and, fervently kissing Alfred's hand, 
replied, " I will. May God bless you, my dear, my only 
son ! " 

His father clasped the other hand, and said, with forced 
calmness : " You are right, Alfred. God bless you ! And 
now, dear Flora, let us consecrate our young hero's resolu- 
tion by singing the Battle Song of Korner." 

She seated herself at the piano, and Mrs. Delano joined 
in with her weak but very sweet voice, while they sang, 
" Father ! I call on thee." But when they came to the 
last verse, the voices choked, and the piano became silent. 
Rosen Blumen and Lila came in and found them all weep- 
ing ; and when their brother pressed them in his arms and 
whispered to them the cause of all this sorrow, they cried 
as if their hearts were breaking. Then their mother sum- 
moned all her resolution, and became a comforter. While 


their father talked to them of the nobility and beauty of 
self-sacrifice, she kissed them and soothed them with hope- 
ful words. Then, turning to Mrs. Delano, she tenderly 
caressed her faded hair, while she said : " Dearest Mamita, 
I trust God will restore to us our precious boy. I will 
paint his picture as St. George slaying the dragon, and you 
shall hang it in your chamber, in memory of what he said 
to you." 

Alfred, unable to control his emotions, hid himself in the 
privacy of his own chamber. He struck his hand wildly 
against his forehead, exclaiming, " my country, great 
is the sacrifice I make for thee ! " Then, kneeling by the 
bed where he had had so many peaceful slumbers, and 
dreamed so many pleasant dreams, he prayed fervently 
that God would give him strength according to his need. 

And so he went forth from his happy home, self-conse- 
crated to the cause of freedom. The women now had but 
one absorbing interest and occupation. All were eager 
for news from the army, and all were busy working for 
the soldiers. 



HEN Mr. King returned from his mournful jour- 
ney to Washington, he said to his wife : " I saw 
George Falkner, and was pleased with him. His resem- 
blance to poor Gerald is wonderful. I could see no differ- 
ence, except a firmer expression of the mouth, which I 
suppose is owing to his determined efforts to escape from 
slavery. Of course, he has not Gerald's gracefulness ; but 
his bearing seemed manly, and there was no obvious stamp 
of vulgarity upon him. It struck me that his transforma- 
tion into a gentleman would be an easy process. I was 
glad our interview was a hurried one, and necessarily 
taken up with details about Gerald's death. It seems he 
carried him off in his own arms when he was wounded, 
and that he did his utmost to stanch the blood. Gerald 
never spoke after the bullet struck him, though he pressed 
his hand, and appeared to try to say something. When he 
opened his vest to dress the wound, he found this." 

Rosa looked at it, groaned out, "Poor Gerald!" and 
covered her face. It was the photograph of Eulalia, 
w T ith the upper part shot away. Both remained for some 
time with their heads bowed in silence. 

After a while, Mr. King resumed : " In answer to Mr. 
Green's inquiries concerning the mutilated picture, I re- 
plied that it was a likeness of my daughter ; and he an- 
swered that he had heard a marriage was thought of 
between them. I was glad he happened to say that, for it 
will make it seem natural to George that I should take a 



lively interest in him on Gerald's account. The funeral, 
and Alfred's departure for the army, have left me little 
time to arrange my thoughts on that subject. But I have 
now formed definite plans, that I propose we should this 
evening talk over at Blumenthars." 

When the sisters met, and the girls had gone to another 
room to talk over their lessons, and imagine what Alfred was 
then doing, Mr. King began to speak of George Falkner. 

Rosa said : " My first wish is to go to New Kochelle and 
bring home Henriet. She ought to be educated in a degree 
somewhat suitable to her husband's prospects. I will teach 
her to read and write, and give her lessons on the piano." 

" I think that would prove too much for your finely at- 
tuned musical nerves," rejoined her husband. 

" Do you suppose you are going to make all the sacri- 
fices ? " responded she, smiling. " It is n't at all like you 
to wish to engross everything to yourself." 

" Rosa has a predilection for penance," remarked Flora ; 
" and if she listens daily to a beginner knocking the scales 
up hill and down hill, I think it will answer instead of 
walking to Jerusalem with peas in her shoes." 

" Before I mention my plans, I should like to hear your 
view of the subject, Blumenthal," said Mr. King. 

His brother-in-law replied : " I think Rosa is right about 
taking charge of Henriet and educating her. But it seems 
to me the worst thing you could do for her or her husband 
would be to let them know that they have a claim to 
riches. Sudden wealth is apt to turn the heads of much 
older people than they are ; and having been brought up 
as slaves, their danger would be greatly increased. If 
Henriet could be employed to sew for you, she might be 
gratified with easy work and generous wages, while you 


watched over her morals, and furnished her with opportu- 
nities to improve her mind. If George survives the war, 
some employment with a comfortable salary might be pro- 
vided for him, with a promise to advance him according 
to his industry and general good habits. How does that 
strike you, Mamita ? " 

" I agree perfectly with you," rejoined Mrs. Delano. 
" I think it would be far more prudent to have their char- 
acters formed by habits of exertion and self-reliance, before 
they are informed that they are rich." 

" It gratifies me to have my own judgment thus con- 
firmed," said Mr. King. " You have given the outlines of 
a plan I had already formed. But this judicious process 
must not, of course, deprive the young man of a single 
cent that is due to him. You are aware that Mr. Bell left 
fifty thousand dollars to his grandson, to be paid when he 
was twenty-two years of age. I have already invested 
that sum for George, and placed it in the care of Mr. Per- 
cival, with directions that the interest shall be added to it 
from that date. The remainder of Mr. Bell's property, 
with the exception of some legacies, was unreservedly left 
to his daughter. I have taken some pains to ascertain the 
amount, and I shall add a codicil to my will leaving an 
equal sum to George. If I survive Mrs. Fitzgerald, the 
interest on it will date from her decease ; and I shall take 
the best legal advice as to the means of securing her prop- 
erty from any claims, by George or his heirs, after they 
are informed of the whole story, as they will be whenever 
Mrs. Fitzgerald dies." 

" You are rightly named Royal King," rejoined Mr. Blu- 
menthal, " you do things in such princely style." 

" In a style better than that of most royal kings," replied 


lie, " for it is simply that of an honest man. If this en- 
tanglement had never happened, I should have done as 
much for Gerald ; and let me do what I will, Eulalia will 
have more money than is good for her. Besides, I rather 
expect this arrangement will prove a benefit to myself. I 
intend to employ the young man as one of my agents in 
Europe ; and if he shows as much enterprise and perse- 
verance in business as he did in escaping from slavery, he 
will prove an excellent partner for me when increasing 
years diminish my own energies. I would gladly adopt 
him, and have him live with us ; but I doubt whether such 
a great and sudden change of condition would prove salu- 
tary, and his having a colored wife would put obstructions 
in his way entirely beyond our power to remove. But the 
strongest objection to it is, that such an arrangement would 
greatly annoy Mrs. Fitzgerald, whose happiness we are 
bound to consult in every possible way." 

" Has she been informed that the young man is found ? " 
inquired Mrs. Delano. 

" No," replied Mr. King. " It occurred very near the 
time of Gerald's death ; and we deem it unkind to disturb 
her mind about it for some months to come." 

* # * # # 

The next week, Mr. and Mrs. King started for New 
York, and thence proceeded to New Rochelle. Following 
the directions they had received, they hired a carriage at 
the steamboat-landing, to convey them to a farm-house a 
few miles distant. As they approached the designated 
place, they saw a slender man, in drab- colored clothes, 
lowering a bucket into the well. Mr. King alighted, and 
inquired, " Is this Mr. Houseman's farm, sir ? " 

" My name is Joseph Houseman," replied the Quaker. 
" I am usually called Friend Joseph." 


Mr. King returned to the carriage, and saying, " This is 
the place," he assisted his lady to alight. Returning to 
the farmer, he said : " We have come to ask you about a 
young colored woman, named Henriet Falkner. Her hus- 
band rendered service to a dear young friend of ours in the 
army, and we would be glad to repay the obligation by 
kindness to her." 

" Walk in," said the Quaker. He showed them into a 
neat, plainly furnished parlor. " Where art thou from ? " 
he inquired. 

" From Boston," was the reply. 

" What is thy name ? " 

" Mr. Kin*." 

" All men are called Mister," rejoined the Quaker. 
" What is thy given name ? " 

" My name is Alfred Royal King ; and this is my wife, 
Rosa King." 

" Hast thou brought a letter from the woman's hus- 
band ? " inquired Friend Joseph. 

" No," replied Mr. King. " I saw George Falkner in 
Washington, a fortnight ago, when I went to seek the body 
of our young friend ; but I did not then 'think of coming 
here. If you doubt me, you can write to William Lloyd 
Garrison or Wendell Phillips, and inquire of them whether 
Alfred R. King is capable of deceiving." 

"I like thy countenance, Friend Alfred, and I think 
thou art honest," rejoined the Quaker ; " but where colored 
people are concerned, I have known very polite and fair- 
spoken men to tell falsehoods." 

Mr. King smiled as he answered : " I commend your 
caution, Friend Joseph. I see how it is. You suspect we 
may be slaveholders in disguise. But slaveholders are just 

18* AA 


now too busy seeking to destroy this Republic to have any 
time to hunt fugitives ; and when they have more leisure, 
my opinion is they will find that occupation gone." 

" I should have more hope of that," replied the farmer, 
" if there was not so much pro-slavery here at the North. 
And thee knows that the generals of the United States are 
continually sending back fugitive slaves to bleed under the 
lash of their taskmasters." 

" I honor your scruples, Friend Joseph," responded Mr. 
King ; " and that they may be completely removed, we 
will wait at the Metropolitan in New York until you have 
received letters from Mr. Garrison and Mr. Phillips. And 
lest you should think I may have assumed the name of 
another, I will give you these to enclose in your letter." 
He opened his pocket-book and took out two photographs. 

" I shall ask to have them sent back to me," replied the 
farmer ; " for I should like to keep a likeness of thee and 
thy Rosa. They wall be pleasant to look upon. As soon 
as I receive an answer, Friend Alfred, I will call upon thee 
at the Metropolitan." 

" We shall be pleased to see you, Friend Joseph," said 
Rosa, with one of her sweetest smiles, which penetrated 
the Quaker's soul, as sunshine does the receptive earth. 
Yet, when the carriage had rolled away, he harnessed his 
sleek horses to the wagon, and conveyed Henriet and her 
babe to the house of a Friend at White Plains, till he as- 
certained whether these stylish-looking strangers were w T hat 
they professed to be. 

A few days afterward, Friend Joseph called at the Me- 
tropolitan. When he inquired for the wealthy Bostonian, 
the waiter stared at his plain dress, and said, "Your card, 


" I have no card," replied the farmer. " Tell him Friend 
Joseph wishes to see him." 

The waiter returned, saying, " Walk this way, sir," and 
showed him into the elegant reception-room. 

As he sat there, another servant, passing through, looked 
at him, and said, " All gentlemen take off their hats in this 
room, sir." 

" That may be," quietly replied the Quaker ; " but all 
men do not, for thee sees I keep mine on." 

The entrance of Mr. King, and his cordial salutation, 
made an impression on the waiters' minds ; and when 
Friend Joseph departed, they opened the door very obse- 

The result of the conference was that Mr. and Mrs. King 
returned to Boston with Henriet and her little one. 

Tulee had proved in many ways that her discretion 
might be trusted ; and it was deemed wisest to tell her the 
whole story of the babe, who had been carried to the cala- 
boose with her when Mr. Bruteman's agent seized her. 
This confidence secured her as a firm friend and ally of 
Henriet, while her devoted attachment to Mrs. King ren- 
dered her secrecy certain. When black Chloe saw the 
new-comer learning to play on the piano, she was some- 
what jealous because the same privilege had not been 
offered to her children. " I did n't know Missy Rosy 
tought thar war sech a mighty difference 'tween black an' 
brown," said she. " I don't see nothin' so drefful pooty in 
dat ar molasses color." 

" Now ye shut up," rejoined Tulee. " Missy Rosy 
knows what she 's 'bout. Ye see Mr. Fitzgerald was in 
love with Missy Eulaly ; an' Henret's husban' took care o' 
him when he was dying, Mr. King is going to send him 


'cross the water on some gran' business, to pay him for 't; 
and Missy Rosy wants his wife to be 'spectable out there 
'mong strangers." 

Henriet proved good-natured and unassuming, and, with 
occasional patronage from Tulee, she was generally able to 
keep her little boat in smooth water. 

When she had been there a few months Mr. King en- 
closed to Mrs. Fitzgerald the letters Gerald had written 
about George ; and a few days afterward he called to ex- 
plain fully what he had done, and what he intended to do. 
That lady's dislike for her rival was much diminished since 
there was no Gerald to excite her jealousy of divided af- 
fection. There was some perturbation in her manner, but 
she received her visitor with great politeness ; and when 
he had finished his statement she said : " I have great re- 
spect for your motives and your conduct ; and I am satis- 
fied to leave everything to your good judgment and kind 
feelings. I have but one request to make. It is that this 
young man may never know he is my son." 

" Your wishes shall be respected," replied Mr. King. 
" But he so strongly resembles Gerald, that, if you should 
ever visit Europe again, you might perhaps like to see 
him, if you only recognized him as a relative of your 

The lady's face flushed as she answered promptly: "No, 
sir. I shall never recognize any person as a relative who 
has a colored wife. Much as I loved Gerald, I would 
never have seen him again if he had formed such an alli- 
ance ; not even if his wife were- the most beautiful and 
accomplished creature that ever walked the earth." 

" You are treading rather closely upon me, Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald," rejoined Mr. King, smiling. 


The lady seemed embarrassed, and said she had forgot- 
ten Mrs. King's origin. 

" Your son's wife is not so far removed from a colored 
ancestry as mine is," rejoined Mr. King ; " but I think you 
would soon forget her origin, also, if you were in a country 
where others did not think of it. I believe our American 
prejudice against color is one of what Carlyle calls * the 
phantom dynasties.' " 

" It may be so," she replied coldly ; " but I do not wish 
to be convinced of it." 

And Mr. King bowed good morning. 

A week or two after this interview, Mrs. Fitzgerald 
called upon Mrs. King ; for, after all, she felt a certain sort 
of attraction in the secret history that existed between 
them ; and she was unwilling to have the world suppose 
her acquaintance had been dropped by so distinguished a 
lady. By inadvertence of the servant at the door, she was 
shown into the parlor while Henriet was there, with her 
child on the floor, receiving directions concerning some 
muslin flounces she was embroidering. Upon the entrance 
of a visitor, she turned to take up her infant and depart. 
Bat Mrs. King said, " Leave little Hetty here, Mrs. Falk- 
ner, till you bring my basket for me to select the floss you 

Hetty, being thus left alone, scrambled up, and toddled 
toward Mrs. King, as if accustomed to an affectionate re- 
ception. The black curls that clustered round her yellow 
face shook, as her uncertain steps hastened to a place of 
refuge ; and when she leaned against her friend's lap, a 
pretty smile quivered on her coral lips, and lighted up her 
large dark eyes. 

Mrs. Fitzgerald looked at her with a strange mixture of 


" Don't you think she 's a pretty little creature ? " asked 
Mrs. King. 

u She might be pretty if the yellow could be washed off," 
replied Mrs. Fitzgerald. 

" Her cheeks are nearly the color of your hair," re- 
joined Mrs. King ; " and I always thought that beauti- 

Mrs. Fitzgerald glanced at the mirror, and sighed as she 
said : " Ah, yes. My hair used to be thought very pretty 
when I was young ; but I can see that it begins to fade." 

When Henriet returned and took the child, she looked 
at her very curiously. She was thinking to herself, " What 
would my father say?" But she asked no questions, and 
made no remark. 

She had joined a circle of ladies who were sewing and 
knitting for the soldiers ; and after some talk about the dif- 
ficulty she had found in learning to knit socks, and how 
fashionable it was for everybody to knit now, she rose to 
take leave. 



^ ^HE months passed on, and brought ever-recurring 
X demands for more soldiers. Mr. King watched the 
progress of the struggle with the deepest anxiety. 

One day, when he had seen a new regiment depart for 
the South, he returned home in a still more serious mood 
than was now habitual to him. After supper, he opened 
the Evening Transcript, and read for a while. Then turn- 
ing to his wife, who sat near him knitting for the army, he 
said, " Dear Rosabella, during all the happy years that I 
have been your husband, you have never failed to en- 
courage me in every good impulse, and I trust you will 
strengthen me noV." 

With a trembling dread of what was coming, she asked, 
" What is it, dear Alfred." 

" Rosa, this Republic must be saved," replied he, with 
solemn emphasis. " It is the day-star of hope to the toil- 
ing masses of the world, and it must not go out in dark- 
ness. It is not enough for me to help with money. I 
ought to go and sustain our soldiers by cheering words and 
a brave example. It fills me with shame and indignation 
when I think that all this peril has been brought upon us 
by that foul system which came so near making a wreck 
of you, my precious one, as it has wrecked thousands of 
pure and gentle souls. I foresee that this war is destined, 
by mere force of circumstances, to rid the Republic of that 
deadly incubus. Rosa, are you not willing to give me up 
for the safety of the country, and the freedom of your 
mother's race ? " 


She tried to speak, but utterance failed her. After a 
struggle with herself, she said : " Do you realize how 
hard is a soldier's life ? You will break down under it, 
dear Alfred ; for you have been educated in ease and 

" My education is not finished," replied he, smiling, as 
he looked round on the elegant and luxurious apartment. 
" What are all these comforts and splendors compared with 
the rescue of my country, and the redemption of an op- 
pressed race ? What is my life, compared with the life of 
this Republic? Say, dearest, that you will give me will- 
ingly to this righteous cause." 

" Far rather would I give my own life," she said. " But 
I will never seek to trammel your conscience, Alfred." 

They spoke together tenderly of the past, and hopefully 
of the future ; and then they knelt and prayed together. 

Some time was necessarily spent in* making arrange- 
ments for the comfort and safety of the family during his 
absence ; and when those were completed, he also went 
forth to rescue Liberty from the jaws of the devouring 
dragon. When he bade farewell to Flora's family, he 
said : u Look after my precious ones, Blumenthal ; and if 
I never return, see to it that Percival carries out all my 
plans with regard to George Falkner." 

Eight or ten w r eeks later, Alfred Blumenthal was lying 
in a hospital at Washington, dangerously wounded and 
burning with fever. His father and mother and Mrs. Del- 
ano immediately went to him ; and the women remained 
until the trembling balance between life and death was de- 
termined in his favor. The soldier's life, which he at first 
dreaded, had become familiar to him, and he found a terri- 
ble sort of excitement in its chances and dangers. Mrs. 


Delano sighed to observe that the gentle expression of 
his countenance, so like the Alfred of her memory, was 
changing to a sterner manhood. It was harder than 
the first parting to send him forth again into the fiery 
hail of battle; bat they put strong constraint upon them- 
selves, and tried to perform bravely their part in the great 

That visit to his suffering but uncomplaining son made 
a strong impression on the mind of Mr. Blumenthal. He 
became abstracted and restless. One evening, as he sat 
leaning his head on his hand, Flora said, " What are you 
thinking of, Florimond ? " 

He answered : " I am thinking, dear, of the agony I suf- 
fered when I had n't money to save you from the auction- 
block ; and I am thinking how the same accursed system is 
striving to perpetuate and extend itself. The Kepublic 
has need of all her sons to stop its ravages ; and I feel 
guilty in staying here, while our Alfred is so heroically 
offering up his young life in the cause of freedom." 

" I have dreaded this," she said. " I have seen for days 
that it was coming. But, O Florimond, it is hard." 

She hid her face in his bosom, and he felt her heart beat 
violently, while he talked concerning the dangers and du- 
ties of the time. Mrs. Delano bowed her head over the 
soldier's sock she was knitting, and tears dropped on it 
while she listened to them. 

The weight that lay so heavily upon their souls was sud- 
denly lifted up for a time by the entrance of Joe Bright. 
He came in with a radiant face, and, bowing all round, said, 
" I 've come to bid you good by ; I 'm going to defend the 
old flag." He lifted up his voice and sang, 

" 'T is the star-spangled banner, long may it wave ! " 


Flora went to the piano, and accompanied him with instru- 
ment and voice. Her husband soon struck in ; and Rosen 
Blumen and Lila left their lessons to perform their part in 
the spirit-stirring strain. When they had sung the last 
line, Mr. Bright, without pausing to take breath, struck 
into " Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled," and they followed 
his lead. He put on all his steam when he came to the 

" By our country's woes and pains, 
By our sons in servile chains, 
We will drain our dearest veins, 
But they shall be free ! " 

He emphasized the word shall, and brought his clenched 
hand down upon the table so forcibly, that the shade over 
the gas-light shook. 

In the midst of it, Mrs. Delano stole out of the room. She 
had a great respect and liking for Mr. Bright, but he was 
sometimes rather too demonstrative to suit her taste. He 
was too much carried away with enthusiasm to notice her 
noiseless retreat, and he went on to the conclusion of his 
song with unabated energy. All earnestness is magnetic. 
Mr. and Mrs. Blumenthal, and even the children, caught 
his spirit. When the song ended, Mr. Blumenthal drew a 
long breath, and said : " One needs strong lungs to accom- 
pany you, Mr. Bright. You sang that like the tramp of a 

" And you blazed away like an explosion of artillery," 
rejoined he. 

" The fact is," replied Blumenthal, " the war spirit 
pervades the air, and I Ve caught it. I 'm going to join 
the army." 

" Are you ? " exclaimed Mr. Bright, seizing his hand 



with so tight a grip that it made him wince. "I hope 
you '11 be my captain." 

Mr. Blumenthal rubbed his hand, and smiled as he said, 
" I pity the Rebel that you get hold of, Mr. Bright." 

"Ask your pardon. Ask your pardon," rejoined he. 
" But speaking of the tramp of a regiment, here it goes ! " 
And he struck up " John Brown's Hallelujah." They 
put their souls into it in such a manner, that the spirit of 
the brave old martyr seemed marching all through it. 

When it came to a conclusion, Mr. Bright remarked : 
" Only to think how that incendiary song is sung in Boston 
streets, and in the parlors too, when only little more than a 
year ago a great mob was yelling after Wendell Phillips, 
for speaking on the anniversary of John Brown's execu- 
tion. I said then the fools would get enough of slavery 
before they 'd done with it ; and I reckon they 're begin- 
ning to find it out, not only the rowdies, but the nabobs 
that set 'em on. War ain't a blessing, but it 's a mighty 
great teacher ; that 's a fact. No wonder the slavites 
hated Phillips. He aims sure and hits hard. No use in 
trying to pass off shams upon him. If you bring him any- 
thing that ain't real mahogany, his blows '11 be sure to 
make the veneering fly. But I 'm staying too long. I 
only looked in to tell you I was going." He glanced round 
for Mrs. Delano, and added : "I'm afraid I sung too loud 
for that quiet lady. The fact is, I 'm full of fight." 

" That 's what the times demand," replied Mr. Blu- 

They bade him " Good night," and smiled at each other 
to hear his strong voice, as it receded in the distance, still 
singing, " His soul is marching on." 

" Now I will go to Mainita," said Flora. " Her gentle 


spirit suffers in these days. This morning, when she saw 
a company of soldiers marching by, and heard the boys 
hurrahing, she said to me so piteously, ' O Flora, these are 
wild times.' Poor Mainita ! she 's like a dove in a tornado." 
" You seemed to be strong as an eagle while you were 
singing," responded her husband. 

" I felt like a drenched humming-bird when Mr. Bright 
came in," rejoined she ; "but he and the music together 
lifted me up into the blue, as your Germans say." 

" And from that height can you say to me, 6 Obey the 
call of duty, Florimond ' ? " 

She put her little hand in his and answered, " I can. 
May God protect us all ! " 

Then, turning to her children, she said : " I am going to 
bring Mamita ; and presently, when I go away to be alone 
with papa a little while, I want you to do everything to 
make the evening pleasant for Mamita. You know she 
likes to hear you sing, * Now Phcebus sinketh in the west.' " 
" And I will play that Nocturne of Mendelssohn's that 
she likes so much," replied Rosen Blumen. " She says I 
play it almost as well as Aunt Rosa." 

" And she likes to hear me sing, ' Once on a time there 
was a king,' " said Lila. " She says she heard you singing 
it in the woods a long time ago, when she had n't anybody 
to call her Mamita." 

" Very well, my children," replied their mother. " Do 
everything you can to make Mamita happy ; for there will 
never be such another Mamita." 

* * # # # 

During the anxious months that, followed Mr. Blumen- 
thal's departure, the sisters and their families were almost 
daily at the rooms of the Sanitary Commission, sewing, 


packing, or writing. Henriet had become expert with the 
sewing-machine, and was very efficient help ; and even 
Tulee, though far from skilful with her needle, contrived to 
make dozens of hospital slippers, which it was the pride 
of her heart to deliver to the ladies of the Commission. 
Chloe added her quota of socks, often elephantine in shape, 
and sometimes oddly decorated with red tops and toes ; 
but with a blessing for " the boys in blue" running through 
all the threads. There is no need to say how eagerly they 
watched for letters, and what a relief it was to recognize 
the writing of beloved hands, feeling each time that it 
might be the last. 

Mr. King kept up occasional correspondence with the 
officers of George Falkner's company, and sent from time 
to time favorable reports of his bravery and good habits. 
Henriet received frequent letters from him, imperfectly 
spelled, but full of love and loyalty. 

Two years after Mr. King lehY his happy home, he was 
brought back with a Colonel's shoulder-strap, but with his 
right leg gone, and his right arm in a sling. When the 
first joy of reunion had expressed itself in caresses and 
affectionate words, he said to' Rosa, "You see what a 
cripple you have for a husband." 

" I make the same reply the English girl did to Com- 
modore Barclay," she replied ; " ' You 're dear as ever to 
me, so long as there 's body enough to hold the soul.' " 

Eulalia wept tears of joy on her father's neck, while 
Flora, and Rosen Blumen, and Lila clasped their arms 
round him, and Tulee stood peeping in at the door, waiting 
for her turn to welcome the hero home. 

" Flora, you see my dancing days are over," said the 


" Never mind, I '11 do your dancing/' she replied. 
" Rosen Blnmen, play uncle's favorite waltz." 

She passed her arm round Eulalia, and for a few mo- 
ments they revolved round the room to the circling music. 
She had so long been called the life of the family, that she 
tried to keep up her claim to the title. But her present 
mirthfulness was assumed ; and it was contrary to her na- 
ture to act a part. She kissed her hand to her brother-in- 
law, and smiled as she whirled out of the room ; but she 
ran up stairs and pressed the tears back, as she murmured 
to herself, "Ah, if I could only be sure Florimond and 
Alfred would come back, even mutilated as he is ! " 



ANOTHER year brought with it what was supposed to 
be peace, and the army was disbanded. Husband 
and son returned alive and well, and Flora was her young 
self again. In the exuberance of her joy she seemed more 
juvenile than her girls ; jumping from husband to son and 
from son to husband, kissing them and calling them all 
manner of pet names ; embracing Mrs. Delano at intervals, 
and exclaiming, " O Mamita, here we are all together 
again ! I wish my arms were long enough to hug you all 
at once." 

" I thank God, my child, for your sake and for my own," 
replied Mrs. Delano. She looked at Alfred, as she spoke, 
and the' affectionate glance he returned filled her heart with 
a deep and quiet joy. The stern shadow of war vanished 
from his face in the sunshine of home, and she recognized 
the same gentle expression that had been photographed on 
her memory long years ago. 

When the family from Beacon Street came, a few min- 
utes later, with welcomes and congratulations, Alfred be- 
stowed a different sort of glance on his cousin Eulalia, and 
they both blushed ; as young people often do, without 
knowing the reason why. Rosen Blumen and Lila had 
been studying with her the language of their father's coun- 
try ; and when the general fervor had somewhat abated, the 
girls manifested some disposition to show off the accom- 
plishment. " Do hear them calling Alfred Mein lieber 
hruder" said Flora to her husband, " while Rosa and I 


are sprinkling them all with pet names in French and 
Spanish. What a polyglot family we are ! as cher papa 
used to say. But, Florimond, did you notice anything pe- 
culiar in the meeting between Alfred and Eulalia ? " 

" I thought I did," he replied. 

" How will Brother King like it ? " she asked. " He 
thinks very highly of Alfred ; but you know he has a the- 
ory against the marriage of cousins." 

" So have I," answered Blumenthal ; " but nations and 
races have been pretty thoroughly mixed up in the ances- 
try of our children. What with African and French, Span- 
ish, American, and German, I think the dangers of too close 
relationship are safely diminished." 

" They are a good-looking set, between you and I," said 
Floi^a ; " though they are oddly mixed up. See Eulalia, 
with her great blue eyes, and her dark eyebrows and eye- 
lashes. Rosen Blumen looks just like a handsome Italian 
girl. No one would think Lila Blumen was her sister, 
with her German blue eyes, and that fine frizzle of curly 
light hair. Your great-grandmother gave her the flax, and 
I suppose mine did the frizzling." 

This side conversation was interrupted by Mr. King's 
saying : " Blumenthal, you have n't asked for news concern- 
ing Mrs. Fitzgerald. You know Mr. Green has been a 
widower for some time. Report says that he finds in her 
company great consolation for the .death of her cousin." 

" That 's what I call a capital arrangement," said Flora ; 
"and I didn't mean any joke about their money, either. 
Won't they sympathize grandly ? Won't she be in her 
element ? Top notch. No end to balls and parties ; and 
a coat of arms on the coach." 

" The news made me very glad," observed Rosa ; " for 


the thought of her loneliness always cast a shadow over my 

" Even they have grown a little during the war," rejoined 
Mr. King. " Nabob Green, as they call him, did actually 
contribute money for the raising of colored regiments. He 
so far abated his prejudice as to be willing that negroes 
should have the honor of being shot in his stead ; and Mrs. 
Fitzgerald agreed with him. That was a considerable ad- 
vance, you must admit." 

They went on for some time talking over news, public 
and private ; not omitting the prospects of Tom's children, 
and the progress of Tulee's. But such family chats are 
like the showers of manna, delicious as they fall, but in- 
capable of preservation. 

The first evening the families met at the house in Bea- 
con Street, Mr. Blumenthal expressed a wish to see Hen- 
riet, and she was summoned. The improvement in her 
appearance impressed him greatly. Having lived three 
years with kindly and judicious friends, who never re- 
minded her, directly or indirectly, that she w T as a black 
sheep in the social flock, her faculties had developed freely 
and naturally ; and belonging to an imitative race, she 
readily adopted the language and manners of those around 
her. Her features were not handsome, with the exception 
of her dark, liquid-looking eyes ; and her black hair was 
too crisp to make a soft shading for her brown forehead. 
But there was a winning expression of gentleness in her 
countenance, and a pleasing degree of modest ease in her 
demeanor. A map, which she had copied very neatly, 
was exhibited, and a manuscript book of poems, of her own 
selection, written very correctly, in a fine flowing hand. 

46 Really, this is encouraging," said Mr. Blumenthal, as 

19 BB 


she left the room. " If half a century of just treatment 
and free schools can bring them all up to this level, our 
battles will not be in vain, and we shall deserve to rank 
among the best benefactors of the country ; to say nothing 
of a corresponding improvement in the white population." 
" Thitherward is Providence leading us," replied Mr. 
King. " Not unto us, but unto God, be all the glory. 

We were all of us working for better than we knew." 

* # * * =& 

Mr. King had written to George Falkner, to inform him 
of a situation he had in store for him at Marseilles, and to 
request a previous meeting in New York, as soon as he 
could obtain his discharge from the army ; being in this, as 
in all other arrangements, delicately careful to avoid giving 
annoyance to Mrs. Fitzgerald. In talking this over w T ith 
his wife, he said : " I consider it a duty to go to Marseilles 
with him. It will give us a chance to become acquainted 
with each other ; it will shield him from possible imperti- 
nences on the passage, on Henriet's account ; and it will be 
an advantage to him to be introduced as my friend to the 
American Consul, and some commercial gentlemen of my 

" I am to go with you, am I not ? " asked Rosa. " I am 
curious to see this young man, from whom I parted, so 
unconscious of all the strange future, when he was a baby 
in Tulee's arms." 

" I think you had better not go, dear," he replied ; 
" though the loss of your company will deprive me of a 
great pleasure. Eulalia would naturally w T ish to go with 
us ; and as she knows nothing of George's private history, 
it would be unwise to excite her curiosity by introducing 
her to such a striking likeness of Gerald. But she might 


stay with Rosen Blumen while you go to New York and 
remain with me till the vessel sails. If I meet with no ac- 
cidents, I shall return in three months ; for I go merely to 
give George a fair start, though, when there, I shall have 
an eye to some other business, and take a run to Italy to 
look in upon our good old friends, Madame and the Sig- 

The journey to New York was made at the appointed 
time, in company with Henriet and her little one. George 
had risen to the rank of lieutenant in the army, and had 
acquired a military bearing that considerably increased the 
manliness of his appearance. He was browned by expos- 
ure to sun and wind ; but he so strongly resembled her 
handsome Gerald, that Rosa longed to clasp him to her 
heart. His wife's appearance evidently took him by sur- 
prise. " How you have changed ! " he exclaimed. " What 
a lady you are ! I can hardly believe this is the little Hen 
I used to make mucl pies with." 

She laughed as she answered : " You are changed, too. 
If I have improved, it is owing to these kind friends. 
Only think of it, George, though Mrs. King is such a hand- 
some and grand lady, she always called me Mrs. Falkner." 

Mrs. King made several appropriate parting presents 
to Henriet and little Hetty. To George she gave a gold 
watch, and a very beautiful colored photograph of Gerald, 
in a morocco case, as a souvenir of their brief friendship in 
the army. 

Mr. King availed himself of every hour of the voyage 
to gain the confidence of the young man, and to instil some 
salutary lessons into' his very receptive mind. After they 
had become well acquainted, he said : " I have made an 
estimate of what I think it will be necessary for you to 


spend for rent, food, and clothing ; also of what I think it 
would be wise for you to spend in improving your educa- 
tion, and for occasional amusements. I have not done this 
in the spirit of dictation, my young friend, but merely with 
the wish of helping you by my greater experience of life. 
It is important that you should learn to write a good com- 
mercial hand, and also acquire, as soon as possible, a very 
thorough knowledge of the French language. For these 
you- should employ the best teachers that can be found. 
Your wife can help you in many ways. She has learned 
to spell correctly, to read with fluency and expression, and 
to play quite well on the piano. You will find it very 
profitable to read good books aloud to each other. I ad- 
vise you not to go to places of amusement oftener than once 
a fortnight, and always to choose such places as will be 
suitable and pleasant for your wife. I like that young men 
in my employ should never taste intoxicating drinks, or use 
tobacco in any form. Both those habits are expensive, 
and I have long ago abjured them as injurious to health." 

The young man bowed, and replied, " I will do as you 
wish in all respects, sir ; I should be very ungrateful if I 
did not." 

"I shall give you eight hundred dollars for the first 
year," resumed Mr. King ; " and shall increase your salary 
year by year, according to your conduct and capabilities. 
If you are industrious, temperate, and economical, there is 
no reason why you should not become a rich man in time ; 
and it will be wise for you to educate yourself, your wife, 
and your children,- with a view to the station you will have 
it in your power to acquire. If you do your best, you may 
rely upon my influence and my fatherly interest to help 
you all I can." 


The young man colored, and, after a little embarrassed 
hesitation, said : " You spoke of a fatherly interest, sir ; 
and that reminds me that I never had a father. May I 
ask whether you know anything about my parents ? " 

Mr. King had anticipated the possibility of such a ques- 
tion, and he replied : " I will tell you who your father was, 
if you will give a solemn promise never to ask a single 
question about your mother. On that subject I have given 
a pledge of secrecy which it would be dishonorable for me 
to break. Only this much I will say, that neither of your 
parents was related to me in any degree, or connected 
with me in any way." 

The young man answered, that he was of course very 
desirous to know his whole history, but would be glad to 
obtain any information, and was willing to give the re- 
quired promise, which he would most religiously keep. 

Mr. King then went on to say : " Your father was Mr. 
Gerald Fitzgerald, a planter in Georgia. You have a 
right to his name, and I will so introduce you to my friends, 
if you wish it. He inherited a handsome fortune, but lost 
it all by gambling and other forms of dissipation. He had 
several children by various mothers. You and the Gerald 
with whom you became acquainted were brothers by the 
father's side. You are unmixed white ; but you were left 
in the care of a negro nurse, and one of your father's 
creditors seized you both, and sold you into slavery. Un- 
til a few months before you were acquainted with Gerald, 
it was supposed that you died in infancy ; and for that 
reason no efforts were made to redeem you. Circumstan- 
ces which I am not at liberty to explain led to the dis- 
covery that you were living, and that Gerald had learned 
your history as a slave. I feel the strongest sympathy 


with your misfortunes, and cherish a lively gratitude for 
your kindness to my young friend Gerald. All that I have 
told you is truth ; and if it were in my power, I would 
most gladly tell you the whole truth." 

The young man listened with the deepest interest ; and, 
having expressed his thanks, said he should prefer to be 
called by his father's name ; for he thought he should feel 
more like a man to bear a name to which he knew that he 
had a right. 

3fc W 3fc ■w 3Jr 

When Mr. King again returned to his Boston home, as 
soon as the first eager salutations were over, he exclaimed: 
" How the room is decorated with vines and flowers ! It 
reminds me of that dear floral parlor in New Orleans." 

" Did n't you telegraph that you were coming ? And is 
it not your birthday ? " inquired his wife. 

He kissed her, and said : " Well, Rosabella, I think you 
may now have a tranquil mind ; for I believe things have 
been so arranged that no one is very seriously injured by 
that act of frenzy which has caused you so much suffering. 
George will not be deprived of any of his pecuniary 
rights ; and he is in a fair way to become more of a man 
than he would have been if he had been brought up in 
luxury. He and Henriet are as happy in their prospects 
as two mortals well can be. Gerald enjoyed his short life ; 
and was more bewildered than troubled by the discovery 
that he had two mothers. -Eulalia was a tender, romantic 
memory to him; and such, I think, he has .become to our 
child. I don't believe Mrs. Fitzgerald suffered much more 
than annoyance. Gerald was always the same to her as a 
son ; and if he had been really so, he would probably have 
gone to the war, and have run the same chance of being 

1^11 n,1 " 


" Ah, Alfred," she replied, " I should never have found 
my way out of that wretched entanglement if it had not 
been for you. You have really acted toward me the part 
of Divine Providence. It makes me ashamed that I have 
not been able to do anything in atonement for my own 
fault, except the pain I suffered in giving up my Gerald to 
his Lily-mother. When I think how that poor babe be- 
came enslaved by my act, I long to sell my diamonds, and 
use the money to build school-houses for the freedmen." 

" Those diamonds seem to trouble you, dearest," rejoined 
he, smiling. " I have no objection to your selling them. 
You become them, and they become you ; but I think 
school-houses will shine as brighter jewels in the better 

Here Flora came in with all her tribe ; and when the 
welcomes were over, her first inquiries were for Madame 
and the Signor. 

" They are well," replied Mr. King, " and they seem to 
be as contented as tabbies on a Wilton rug. They show 
signs of age, of course. The Signor has done being pep- 
pery, and Madame's energy has visibly abated; but her 
mind is as lively as ever. I wish I could remember half 
the stories she repeated about the merry pranks of your 
childhood. She asked a great many questions about Jolie 
Marion ; and she laughed till she cried while she described, 
in dramatic style, how you crazed the poor bird with imita- 
tions, till she called you Joli petit diahle" 

" How I wish I had known mamma then ! How funny 
she must have been ! " exclaimed Lila. 

" I think you have heard some performances of hers that 
were equally funny," rejoined Mrs. Delano. " I used to 
be entertained with a variety of them ; especially when we 


were in Italy. If any of the pifferari went by, she would 
imitate the drone of their bagpipes in a manner irresistibly 
comic. And if she saw a peasant-girl dancing, she forth- 
with went through the performance to the life." 

"Yes, Mamita," responded Flora; "and you know I 
fancied myself a great musical composer in those days, — a 
sort of feminine Mozart ; but the qui vive was always the 
key I composed in." 

" I used to think the fairies helped you about that, as 
well as other things," replied Mrs. Delano. 

" I think the fairies help her now," said Mr. Blumenthal ; 
€i and well they may, for she is of their kith and kin." 

This playful trifling was interrupted by the sound of the 
folding-doors rolling apart ; and in the brilliantly lighted 
adjoining room a tableau became visible, in honor of the 
birthday. Under festoons of the American flag, surmounted 
by the eagle, stood Eulalia, in ribbons of red, white, and 
blue, with a circle of stars round her head. One hand up- 
held the shield of the Union, and in the other the scales 
of Justice were evenly poised. By her side stood Rosen 
Blumen, holding in one hand a gilded pole surmounted by 
a liberty-cap, while her other hand rested protectingly on 
the head of Tulee's Benny, who was kneeling and looking 
upward in thanksgiving. 

Scarcely had the vision appeared before Joe B right's 
voice was heard leading invisible singers through the tune 
" Hail to the Chief," winch Alfred Blumenthal accom- 
panied with a piano. As they sang the last line the striped 
festoons fell and veiled the tableau. Then Mr. Bright, 
who had returned a captain, appeared with his company, 
consisting of Tom and Chloe with their children, and 
Tulee with her children, singing a parody composed by. 
himself, of which the chorus was : — 


" Blow ye the trumpet abroad o'er the sea, 
Columbia has triumphed, the negro is free ! 
Praise to the God of our fathers ! 't was He, 
Jehovah, that triumphed, Columbia, through thee. 


To increase the effect, the director of ceremonies had 
added a flourish of trumpets behind the scenes. 

Then the colored band came forward, hand in hand, and 
sang together, with a will, Whittier's immortal " Boat 
Song " : — 

" We own de hoe, we own de plough, 

We own de hands dat hold ; 
We sell de pig, we sell de cow; 
But nebber chile be sold. 

De yam will grow, de cotton blow, 

We '11 hab de rice an' corn : 
O, nebber you fear, if nebber you hear 
De driver blow his horn ! " 

All the family, of all ages and colors, then joined in 
singing " The Star-spangled Banner " ; and when Mr. 
King had shaken hands with them all, they adjourned to the 
breakfast-room, where refreshments were plentifully pro- 

At last Mr. Bright said : " I don't want to bid you good 
night, friends; but I must. I don't generally like to go 
among Boston folks. Just look at the trees on the Com- 
mon. They 're dying because they 've rolled the surface 
of the ground so smooth. That 's just the way in Boston, 
I reckon. They take so much pains to make the surface 
smooth, that it kills the roots o' things. But when I come 
here, or go to Mrs. Blumenthal's, I feel as if the roots o' 
things wa'n't killed. Good night, friends. I have n't en- 
joyed myself so well since I found Old Hundred and 
Yankee Doodle in the Harmolinks." 


The sound of his whistling died away in the streets ; the 
young people went off to talk over their festival; the 
colored troop retired to rest; and the elders of the two 
families sat together in the stillness, holding sweet converse 
concerning the many strange experiences that had been so 
richly crowned with blessings. 

A new surprise awaited them, prepared by the good 
taste of Mr. Blumenthal. A German Liederkrantz in the 
liall closed the ceremonies of the night with Mendelssohn's 
" Song of Praise." 


Cambridge : Stereotyped arid Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co. 




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